I'm With You
by Graysonation
Summary: It was something too terrible to speak of that made a Spencer Reid run away from home at just twelve years old. But maybe just maybe, a little something special that can't be named would make him come 'home' . . . (Kid!fic AU, based on the Avril Lavigne song.)
1. StandingOnTheBridge,WaitingInTheDark

**Author's Note:** Well . . . this one has been forever in the making, hasn't it? I remember sitting at my last job, tossing and turning the idea around in my mind as I graded papers, contemplating if it should be written or not . . . but, with a little push from my writing group on Facebook . . . it's happened.

Anyhoo . . . I listen to "I'm With You" fairly often, it being my favorite Avril song, and this idea was born as I was playing music and watching _Elephants'_ _Memory_ when trying to complete my homework . . . Great formula, as you can see. This is just a venture into the land of AU and children, playing around with that wince-inducing memory Spencer brought up of being tied to a goalpost for the amusement of some sick peers. I don't know how long this'll be, but hopefully less than twenty chapters . . . and expect lots of cameos to come; I dig references.

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** A great many thanks to _Anneber03, silverwrym,_ and _IntotheWilds,_ all of whom have corresponded with me in some part about this piece, cheered me greatly through some rough times, and encouraged my writing any time I expressed doubts. You guys are wonderful, and I don't know how to express my appreciation without giving some sort of terribly awkward . . . hug. *Gulps* Thanks!

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Reviews are tastier than candy, but there's seriously no obligation; I couldn't stop writing this if I tried.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _Standing On The Bridge, Waiting In The Dark_

* * *

 _It was a dark and stormy night . . ._

The clichéd words that had started a number of novel novels in oh-so-many years were a terribly overused set, one that didn't exactly lend themselves to stimulating the creative juices – especially not in ponderous young minds like the one that was thinking them currently.

Still, even as the phrase flitted across the often-acclaimed _beautiful_ mind of one Spencer Reid, it wasn't exactly the idea of waxing poetic with which he was concerned. Fact was, it was pitch-black and thunderous outside, and the young genius could think of nothing so apt to describe the night.

Shaking his hair slightly of the water droplets that had begun to gather in his chestnut tresses, the boy looked around, reaching up a hand to wipe some of the precipitation from where it was smearing up his glasses, huffing a small sigh of frustration when his ever-clumsy fingers knocked the spectacles off his head – _again_ – and left him scrabbling around on the ground to find them again.

With some luck, and after a few minutes of fumbling, Spencer finally straightened up, glasses in hand, and squinted.

 _Cracked. Again._

Just another thing to add to the long list of bad things that had made up this day. And the day before . . . Hell, the entire week, for that matter.

Reid shook his head, forcing back the barrage of thoughts and memories. No need to start thinking about _that_ , not when he'd only just started to put everything out of his mind.

Sighing, the young boy glanced around in an effort to distract himself, to think about anything but what he was thinking about at the moment.

There wasn't much in the way of aversion.

As far as bus stops went, this one was a relatively plain one. Four plastic barrier walls that seemed about as stable as pieces of paper; already, they were rattling in their frames from the mild winds, and the rainwater running down them seemed to be weighing the dilapidated pieces down.

Spencer stared at the paths the rivulets made over the surface of the walls, faintly entranced by the patterns; bolts of lightning flashed at the corners of his eyes, and the steady roar of thunder kept him from drifting too far off from reality.

After a few more moments, he sat down on the hard, faded green bench that was cutting into the back of his knees. He was going to be there awhile; he might as well sit down, at least. He glanced around again, eyes catching over the ledge of the bridge on which this bus stop was sitting; if he were to exit the little cubicle, take a few steps to the right, and jump? He'd land some hundred feet below, into the unforgiving ground beneath.

He'd probably die.

Spencer hated that that idea didn't horrify him as much as it should have. Instead of shuddering at the idea that his doom could be so very near – if he should choose it – instead he regarded the idea curiously; to live, or not to live?

That was the question . . .

Startled by the direction of his own thoughts, Spencer shook his head violently, trying to clear it. What was the matter with him? Thinking about death, running away from home . . . ?

He looked guiltily down at the bag resting between his knees, and tried to bite back the wave of revulsion that hit him every time he remembered where he was, what he was doing. If he fell into those questions, it would be almost as bad as if he let the feelings bottled up inside all out at once.

Spencer's eyes caught on his wrists, on the rope burns and deep-dug bruises and scratching that littered the bottom of his arms.

Oh, yes, best just not to think about _anything_ right then.

Ignoring the prickling feeling at the back of his eyes, Reid crossed his hands over his midsection in a protective, almost comforting manner. Outside, the thunder continued, louder than before.

Spencer hated thunder almost as much as he hated heights. Another bolt struck, closer than before, and the boy shivered, drawing his arms in tighter around himself, trying to find some semblance of warmth.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. "You should probably put on a coat, kid."

Jumping nearly a foot in the air, Spencer only managed to hold back his startled yelp by biting down on his tongue – hard. Sucking back a hiss of pain as the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, the younger boy looked up to see who had come so close.

The boy standing next to him was significantly larger than Spencer himself – perhaps not as tall, but far more bulky in the ways that would protect him; firm, rounded muscles that were barely covered by a waffle-shirt flexed as the other boy crossed his arms, and a six-pack was clearly visible from the way his too-small attire lifted up, revealing a micro-sliver of skin before the waistband of his Lee's blocked the view. A jean-jacket hung casually over one shoulder, and the boy – man? He had to be at least 16 – leaned casually to the right in order to keep the thing on his arm.

Reid was startled from his analytical onceover when the stranger next to him spoke again, his voice a littler firmer and about an octave deeper.

"Kid? You listenin' to me?" The hand had pulled off of his shoulder as soon as he had reacted so violently, but it still hovered near his face, and, unwillingly, Spencer flinched back from the contact.

"Kid?"

A slight jolt of irritation shot through Spencer, and from that he gathered enough courage to look the other boy in the eyes – just briefly.

He had dark eyes, the same chocolate-y brown as his skin, and just as soft. They sparkled with good cheer, and Spencer remembered his mother telling him once that people with eyes that smiled like that would have laugh lines before middle-age.

Well, the other boy wasn't smiling now. He had one eyebrow raised as he regarded Spencer, the look on his face made all the more intimidating by the fact that he had apparently shaved his head.

For a few moments, cool silence flowed between the two, each saying a million things by not speaking a word.

And then Spencer looked away, trying to keep himself steady. "I'm – I'm not a kid."

There was a laugh from next to him. "That'd be more believable if your voice hadn't just cracked."

Spencer stiffened. "That's not an accurate measure of age. That would be like me saying that your muscular stature indicates that you've already passed puberty."

A pause, and then, "You've been looking at my _muscular stature_ , eh?"

Spencer blushed furiously. "That's not what I – "

"Cool your jets. _Kid_." The hand that had taken up residence near his side shifted, and Reid felt a sinking motion next to him as the other boy took a seat on the bench as well. "I'm seventeen, actually, so you're right about being out of puberty. You, on the other hand," he snorted, "don't even look like you've started it."

"I'm twelve years old!" Spencer stuttered, indignant.

The other boy snorted. "Right, well, you're dangerously close to being a man, then . . . ?"

The indication that he was trying to get his name was obvious, and Reid smoothly ignored it. Bad enough that this guy wouldn't leave him to his thoughts _in peace_ ; there was no need to start getting chummy.

After a moment, the other kid let the pause slide off into nothingness, and gave Reid the same sort of keen, studying gaze that the genius had only moments before been giving him.

Spencer's hair was, as usual, in his face, and so he didn't see the look aimed his way, but he could feel the heat of eyes on him. It was a familiar feeling, that of being watched; and it never led to anything good.

Finally unable to ignore the twisting in his gut any further, Spencer glanced up sharply, taking the other boy by surprise and catching him studying Reid's form.

Just as he'd thought.

"Is there something you want?" Spencer spat out, trying not to think about how his mother would have been ashamed by his rude tone. Instead of apologizing, he stared at the other boy intently, taking note of every movement and their relative positions to each other, determined not to be taken by surprise again.

At least the young man had the good grace to look embarrassed – for a second. He brushed it off quickly enough, his voice just as smooth and confident as before when he responded. "Just trying to figure out why a ki – ah, _boy your age_ is running away from home, is all."

Spencer frowned. "Who says I'm running away?"

Stupid question. The guy pointed to the bag still tucked beneath his knees. "I just figure that most kids don't carry around their backpacks everywhere they go."

"I stay late at school."

The other boy raised his eyebrow. "It's almost ten o'clock at night."

Now the blush was back.

"Awfully late for class, buck."

Spencer turned away as much he could, his body twisting until a number of inches separated him from the stranger. Eyes cast downwards, he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the ever-present crackle of thunder in the air. "I like school."

"Clearly," the other boy mused, his tone indicating the smile that Reid couldn't see. "I mean, what other reason would a _kid_ have for being out so late with an armful of stuff waiting for transportation."

Spencer bit his lip to vent some of the tension that had him squaring up his shoulders. "No reason."

"No reason," the other boy repeated, his voice only showing a faint shade of the disbelief he was clearly feeling.

Spencer gulped, and shook his head. "Nope."

There was a long, tense moment between the two, each evaluating the other one.

"So, kid – "

"Would you please," Spencer spoke through clenched teeth, " _please_ refrain from calling me that?"

"You got a name?"

The answer was instantaneous, instinctive. "No."

Next to him, he could feel the other boy's surprise. "Really?"

Spencer nodded once, primly, before resolving again to ignore the stranger.

It didn't work for long. "So, you're out here alone, late at night, when it's cold and stormy. Just a boy with no name, and no reason?" The boy gave a short laugh, and leaned back into the bench once more. "You're a highly underprivileged person, Pretty Boy."

Spencer's head jolted up at that. "What did you just call me?"

The other boy looked more than a little surprised at the angry reaction he received. "You won't tell me your name, and I'm not supposed to call you 'kid.' And I don't see any problem with just stating facts – you're very . . . pretty."

Though the smile on the other's face was congenial, with no hidden agenda, Reid had been through something like this too many times before not to be wary. He flinched away from the gentle tone, the blood draining from his face as the young genius did everything in his power to get some distance for himself.

His actions didn't go unnoticed. Within seconds, that hand was on his shoulder again, that voice entirely too close to his ear. "What's wrong?"

 _What's wrong, Poindexter?_

 _Why are you crying – can't you get loose?_

 _Why are you such a baby?_

 _Baby, baby, baby!_

"No!" Spencer gasped out, lurching away from the gently fingers on his shoulder, struggling to get away from the potential threat.

For a moment, the grip on his arm tightened, and Reid flailed, certain that some pain was about to follow, mentally bracing himself for a blow to the jaw . . . but . . .

. . . but the next time he shifted, still desperate to get away from the unfamiliar contact, the hand slid easily off his shoulder, and there was nothing to stop Reid from fleeing to the corner of the booth.

He stood there, hunched over and shivering, peeking out from the tendrils of hair in his face to see the other boy now also on his feet, a look of concern written on his face.

The kid took a step forward, hand extended, and Spencer recoiled back, pressing himself deeper against the wall, as far away as he could get. Safe.

The other boy froze at that, a flash of something in his eyes as he took in the quaking form before him. Slowly, he straightened up, hand raised in a reconciliatory, surrendering manner.

"Easy, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Spencer's wide eyes stayed open and aware, and the shaking didn't let up. He watched the boy before him, something like fear quivering in his stomach as he kept his eyes trained on the stronger, larger figure.

After a moment, the other boy spoke again, his voice lower and softer than before, as if talking to a skittish animal.

"My name's Derek. Derek Morgan." He took a step forward, and Spencer hunched his shoulders again, defensive. But he didn't back any further away. Perhaps because he couldn't – but the other boy, _Derek_ , seemed to take it as a sign of encouragement. He shifted closer.

"I'm sorry if I scared you."

Closer still.

"I was just trying to help."

Spencer had to bite back a scoff at that.

 _Help?_

 _No one ever helps._

It wasn't the teenage angst that often kept youth so alive and so fresh; the genius had learned through a lifetime of example that if he wanted something, he had to fight for it himself.

Alone.

 _Always_ alone.

The boy was tugged from his thoughts when he looked up and saw that Derek was right next to him, hands still help up peacefully, and a concerned look in his eye that Spencer had only ever seen in one other person before.

His mother.

The younger boy gulped, and forced himself to stay still. It was purely reflex, the fleeing and retreating. Something he'd picked up and adapted after years and years of being bullied. Usually, it worked well enough at getting people to leave him alone.

But not Derek. The older boy remained standing, an almost kindly expression written on his handsome face.

Spencer swallowed again. He had to do _something_ to escape, to take control of the situation. Anything.

Even talking.

He took in a deep breath, faking calm, before finally letting a few words out. "I j-just . . . I thought that someone would be here by now."

Derek looked surprised – whether it was at the fact that the younger boy had finally spoken, or the words he had said, Spencer couldn't be entirely sure.

"Kid . . . are you waiting for a ride? This late?"

Still cautious, Spencer nodded miserably. When he didn't say anything, something seemed to click into place for the older boy, and realization flooded Derek's eyes.

"The bus? You're here for the bus?"

No response. Not that he exactly needed it. Derek sighed, and ran a hand through where his hair would have been. "Oh, man, kid . . . the busses stop running at six in the evening. Eight, on Fridays. It's already been shut down for hours."

His voice was soft, and it was totally illogical, but Spencer felt tears welling up in his eyes even before Derek finished his sentence.

 _He'd missed his chance when he missed the bus. There was no escaping, and he would have to go back now, explain everything to his mom . . . or, worse, pretend that everything was just fine . . ._

Spencer hadn't realized that he was gasping for air as the thoughts spun dizzyingly throughout his head; didn't know that he was almost bent over double in the booth as fear and dread slammed into him, over and over and over again.

Didn't notice a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back and softly calling, "Pretty Boy . . . "

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, Spencer trying to get control of himself, to reign in his emotions, while Derek stayed utterly still, solid and quiet and soothing for this person that he had just met.

Finally, both of the boys' breathing slowed to a normal pace, and they stood there, closer than would seem okay, both appearing completely lost in their own thoughts.

Just as another roll of thunder crackled across the sky, Spencer looked up, and the blank expression on his face utterly terrified Derek; the boy looked ad though the fight that had been in him so resolutely at the beginning of their conversation had just faded away totally, like he was only half-there.

Or not even at all.

"I guess I'll be going, then," he said, his voice flat and lifeless that Derek actually shuddered.

Spencer moved forward mechanically, hand reaching out for the bag he'd left behind on the seat, and Derek realized that he was completely serious.

His hand shot forward, lightly gripping the forearm of the kid, and it was a sign just how far gone the other was when his only reaction was to look up, a mild startled flash in those brilliant hazel eyes of his.

"Kid . . . it's late. It's pouring rain, and freezing cold, and dark as hell. You can't go walking around out there."

The boy shrugged. "I do it all the time. Once more won't make a difference." He moved his arm to escape from Derek's grip, but the older boy only tightened the hold he had further.

"You're all by yourself."

Spencer gave a bitter laugh. "Aren't I always?"

"This – this isn't a good part of town."

"Which is why I'd like to get going." The boy made a final tug on his wrist, actually managing to wrench it free and stumbling back a bit in his surprise. His back slammed against the plastic wall of the booth, and he bit back a small yelp of pain.

When Spencer looked up, Derek was there again, entirely too close for his comfort, and he flinched away, some instinctive part of him still trying to retreat for safety's sake.

Derek froze. The way this kid was acting, it was as though he expected to be attacked at any and every second – like he was scared, _truly afraid_ , of Derek, of all that he was and could do.

Something that almost irritated the older boy, seeing as he meant no harm at all.

Once more, he stepped back, checking himself and taking care to give the kid every bit of the space he seemed to need. Very slowly, the boy before him showed visible signs of relaxation; some color returned to his face, his eyes stopped darting around so wildly, and his form stopped shaking quite so badly. After a few more moments, the younger boy lifted his eyes, and once again nearly knocked Derek back with that startling gaze of his.

Then, and only then, did the older boy speak.

"Look, kid," he started slowly, "I can't just let you walk out into that mess; no one's with you, and it's nasty as fuck this time of night out there on the streets."

The younger boy shrugged. "I need to get home."

"Well, then, I'm taking you there."

He shook his head. "You're not – I m-mean, I just met you; I'm not taking you to see where I live."

Derek raised a single eyebrow. "You don't really have a lot of options, boy; unless you want to spend the night in here with me, either I'm taking you to your place, or you're coming to mine."

Again, that small head covered with wild brown curls shook back and forth. "That's not – you can't tell me what to – "

"I'm not," Derek cut in coolly. "I just gave you three options, kid. You can pick where ya hang your hat tonight, but you're not going anywhere unless I can make sure that you get there safely."

The other boy glared. "What do you care? I don't even know you!"

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't, actually."

Derek shrugged. "Fine, _Kid._ To answer your question? You're right, I don't know you a bit; you could be some child prodigy with straight A's who plays the piano in-between volunteering at the animal shelter, or you could be one of those gang-recruit little punk-asses who sells X when he should be in school. And even though I _pray_ it's the former and not the latter, in the end, it doesn't fucking matter; you're here with no one by your side, and that's not a good place to be."

He took a breath, and continued. "You listening to the night out there?" He turned his head slightly, and the younger boy did the same, his eyes bright with either tears or curiosity, his entire form rigid. "There's nothing but the rain. No footsteps on the ground." Slowly, Derek turned back. "I might know a lot about people, or about you – but I know exactly what's going on. I've been just where you are, alone late at night with a bag of m'things and trying to find an escape . . ."

* * *

Maybe it was Spencer's imagination, but he could swear that Derek bit back a sniffle as he stepped towards him; the older boy's hand dashed up to his eyes, as if wiping away some unseen tear.

His voice shook as he finished his little tirade. "I – I _know_ that if I leave you alone right here, right now, this time . . . that there won't be a next time. And I also know that I'll be responsible for anything you do or do not do as soon as you're out of my sight. And I'm _not_ letting that happen."

Spencer just stood there, mouth hanging slightly open, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. When he tried to speak, it felt like there was no air in the room. "You can't – "

"I can, and I did. I _will_. So you'd better make up your mind – because, willing or not, I'm with you, kid."

And just like that, all of the fight drained out of Spencer.

Things were just how he had always known them to be; someone bigger and tougher and stronger was telling him what to do, and he was chanceless to try and resist.

What would be the point, anyway? Especially when this Derek had already made his dominance – and stubbornness – plainly clear?

He sighed. "Do whatever you want, then."

Derek frowned. "That's not how it works; I asked what _you_ wanted."

"Right," Spencer nodded morosely. "And that, I'm not going to get. So why don't you just damn well decide, _Derek Morgan._ " He said the words as though they left a nasty taste in his mouth.

* * *

The older boy nearly took a step back at the tone, his surprise written all over his face. He looked almost . . . hurt.

But any betraying emotions were quickly wiped off of his face, Derek's impeccable control slipping a mask back over his feelings, and he regarded the boy before him with curiosity and confusion.

Nothing more.

It was only after a few moments of watching the kid squirm under his gaze that Derek finally voiced his thoughts.

"Fine, then. We'll stay at my place tonight; I'll take you home as soon as the sun rises."

The kid nodded, and Derek bent over, making to grab his backpack – but a gasp and a skinny white hand shooting out to grab the straps first had him stopping in his tracks.

"Okay," he spoke slowly, regarding the boy before him, clutching his bag as though it was his life, eyes still wide with fear and mistrust.

"Okay. I gotcha. Don't touch the personal gear. Okay." He backed up a step. "Let's get going, then."

A look of surprise crossed over the kid's delicate features, and he blinked. "You're not going to – you're not going to take it from me?"

Derek frowned. "You don't want me to; why would I?"

There was a flash of something unreadable in the boy's eyes, and Derek couldn't take the time to analyze it; the storm was getting worse. He turned around, calling over his shoulder, "Just follow me; I'm real close by."

There was a moment of silence, and Derek tuned around, irritated when he saw that the other hadn't moved a damn inch yet.

"Kid – "

"It's Reid. People call me Reid."

Derek froze in place, surprise nailing him to exact spot in which he stood for a few seconds while he stared at the boy before him, completely and utterly shocked that he'd managed to get even that small bit of information.

And then, after a moment of appraisal, he smiled.

"Reid . . . fits you, Pretty Boy."

The boy – _Reid_ – flushed slightly, and Derek lightly draped a hand over his shoulder.

"Let's go, then. _Kid._ "

* * *

 **Author's Endnote:** Okay, not much getting done, yet . . . but don't blame me! It's weird, writing those two as not-best-buds, honestly. or lovers. *Coughs* Ahyways, I'll post more in a week-ish. Gotta get back to work, though, now. Adieu!


	2. Listening, But There's No Sound

**Author's Note:** Ohmygawsh, you guys! I never thought this would receive the kind of response it has in like, less than a week. Thank you so, so, SO much for the incredible reviews! People actually LIKE this, and I can't give words to how much that means to me, because I like writing this. It's been a wonderful way to vent, and I love relistening to the song to chase my inspiration.

Something a few people expressed concern about; the length of this fic. I doubt it'll be more than 20 chapters, MAX. I just wanted to explore Spencer's side of the bullying things, and give him some friends he never had before. And I wanna put all of my favorite CM characters in here somewhere, so we'll keep an eye out for them. We'll meet a few of the best in the next chapter (which is already partially written), but right now, I wanna cement the relationship between Morgan and Reid and . . . someone else . . . a little bit. Make of it what you will, my lovelies.

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _(I'm so sorry, but I legitimately have neither the time nor the internet connection to answer everyone in PM's like I normally do. I sincerely regret this, since I love talking to my readers, especially those who are kind enough to leave reviews. Once I'm back home, this shouldn't be a big issue anymore. In the meantime, thank you all!)_

 _DarkJediQueen:Thank you for the kind words! I'm so glad you're liking the dynamic — although more smiles will come eventually, there's plenty of angst slightly to the left. Keep your eyes peeled._

 _Sue1313: I love Derek taking care of Spencer, too. Or anyone taking care of him; our favorite genius just seems to inspire that kind of reaction in people, amIright?_

 _.144: I like your optimism — a great start leads to a meaty middle, or so I'm hoping. Let's keep our fingers crossed, chalk we? And, heck yeah, ALL of the team will make some appearances — old, new, and some surprise guest stars in the later chapters._

 _Anneber03: I knew your review would be my favorite — it always is. I'm sorry I love bringing up Reid's past so much, but I can't help myself most of the time; as you said, it makes for so many good stories! And, no, while Reid was contemplating what would happen if he fell over the bridge, I do NOT intend to have him kill himself. This won't be that kind of angst — just sweet, tortured little Spencer. And I'm flattered you gave this story a try, despite it being far from your comfort zone. I hope it lives up to expectations — I'm already typing Chapter #3!_

 _Kas3y: While I can't deny how much I adore slash, I'm fairly sure that this isn't going to be a romantic story. Spencer's so young, I don't think I'd be okay with that. Poor baby. But I'm glad you like it otherwise, and I hope it pleases you, no matter what turns it takes._

 _Beata666: Gracias! Tu complimento es muy sympatico, y me gustalo._

 _Angelus Candida: Hey, thank you for the compliment! More is definitely coming — I can never leave a story incomplete, once I start one. Dunno how long this one'll be, but it's definitely gonna be a little bit before I click that 'complete' button._

 _silverwrym: Always amazing to hear your critique. I know it's a little odd for a 12-year-old and 17-year-old to bond, but I've always figured that Derek is a little young for his age, and Spencer a little antique; besides which, they're gonna be a bit like brothers that amicably tolerate one another, rather than best buds or boyfriends. ya know? But I'm so glad that you like this thusfar— AUs are a HUGE guilty pleasure of mine, and kid!fics are definitely the most addictive. I've got plenty of recommendations, if'n you're interested. And again, I'm not sure how long this'll go on for, but I've got some small plot things lined up; you'll have to wait and see. *winks*_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 _Listening, But There's No Sound_

* * *

"How can you see where you're going?"

It was the third time that that the kid had asked something like this, and Derek had to simultaneously bite back a chuckle and a sigh of irritation.

"I know the way," he chose to say instead. "I've been down here often enough."

"Down here?" Reid panted, his voice echoing faintly into the darkness.

There was small clatter, a tumbling sound, and an "Ooph!" from behind Derek, and he turned around quick as a flash, instantly on alert.

He had to hide a smile at the sight; apparently, the kid wasn't as graceful as the ex-athlete was, on top of not being accustomed to the terrain that Derek could navigate with his eyes closed, and he had tripped over a few loose rocks. Now sitting firmly on his rear, the younger boy was staring stubbornly in his direction with a confused and irritated look.

Derek held out a hand, and with some reluctance, Reid took it, still rubbing his sore back and hoping against hope that there wouldn't be more bruises to cover up and explain.

"Why, exactly, are we _down here_?" He asked, the slightly stern note in his voice more apparent than before. "I thought that we were going to your house?"

"I said we were going to my _place,_ kid. I never said nothing about a house." Derek's response was swift.

Reid halted in his tracks. "Wait," he said, looking around rapidly. "We're not going to . . . ?"

Suddenly, it seemed to hit him. "You – you live under the bridge?"

Derek turned around, raising an eyebrow. "That a problem?"

Reid cringed back from the sharp tone the other boy used. "N-no, I just – I – uhm . . ." His eyes darted around wildly for a moment, as though seeking an escape, and Derek instantly felt bad for scaring him. Again.

"Kid, I – "

"How old are you?" Reid blurted out.

Somewhat surprised by the question, it took Derek a moment to respond. "I'm – I'm seventeen."

"How can you be homeless, then?"

Derek's face darkened. "Who says I'm homeless?"

Reid's posture tensed up again, and when he spoke, he couldn't meet Derek's eyes. "I m-mean . . . why don't you live with your parents?"

Derek's response was clouded, old memories rising to the forefront of his mind, and he tried not to let his voce choke on them. "I moved out here to take a job."

At that, Reid finally looked up, surprise etched clearly all over his face. "You're not from here?"

Derek had to laugh. "Do I sound like I'm from fucking Las Vegas, kid?" He shook his head. "Windy City, born and bred."

"Chicago . . ." Reid murmured, shaking his head. "Why would you leave a place like that to come _here_?" He waved his arms around, gesturing to the general vicinity and all that surrounded them; the overpass, the city, Nevada in general.

Derek had to think for a moment; and when his response came, it was slow on his tongue. " _Here,_ " he said, "is home for me, kid. I had a pretty good job up in Illinois, working at this restaurant chain. They offered me a manager position, but it was a coupla' states over . . . I was already emancipated at that point, and it would be a lot more money to send back to my family. So I took it. I've been down here for nearly two years."

Reid only really focused on one of the things that Derek had said. "Why are you emancipated?"

The older boy's eyes flashed, something furious and unfamiliar slithering back there – and Reid had to hold back a shudder at the expression.

After a moment, Derek seemed to calm himself, the only sign of his feelings beneath the surface his clenched and slightly trembling fists by his side. When he finally answered Reid's question, it was through clenched teeth. "I was . . . It was kind of a tough . . . I mean . . ." He sighed. "There was some shit going on at home with one of my community-center instructors, and I wanted to get away from it all. The job offer came at exactly the right time, for the right price, and I hauled ass to jump on it." Derek paused, a faraway look in his eyes. "I've never regretted it since."

Seeming to think that this closed the line of conversation, Derek abruptly turned heel, and continued the arduous and half-blind walk down the quarry, heading to the underbelly of the vast bridge. Not wanting to be left behind, Reid scrambled after him, ignoring the slight pain in his legs from his earlier tumble.

It was nothing compared to what else covered his body.

* * *

"You were actually serious," Spencer breathed out, wonder and curiosity lacing his voice as he gazed around the huge, cavernous underside of the Tillman Bridge.

Derek, who was just thankful to be out of the freezing rain and back on familiar turf, barely heard the kid. "Hmm?"

Reid gulped, brushing the wet stands of hair our of his face, and shyly glancing around the area again. "You actually live under here."

Derek began wringing out his soaking T-shirt. "Yep."

Reid spoke hesitantly, not wanting to seem like a baby. "I just . . . how do you not get scared?"

"Scared?"

"With all this," Reid cleared his throat, the sound echoing hugely. "Being here, a new state, new job, living under a bridge by yourself . . ."

At that, Derek finally turned to face his equally-dripping companion, something soft in his expression. "I told ya, kid, this isn't new for me; I've been down here for awhile, and this – " he gestured, much as Reid had just done, to their surroundings, "is as much a home for me as Chicago ever was."

He looked Reid over again from head to toe, and saw how the boy was shaking from the cold. Sighing slightly at his own ignorance, Derek gently took the boy's elbow, and began guiding him towards the other end of the underpass, his feet familiar with the ground and easily carving a path through the encroaching darkness.

"Besides," he finally spoke again, his tone light. "Who says I live here alone?"

 _"_ _Der-Bear!"_

The loud squeal came out of nowhere – seemingly, much like its' source, and Reid had to jump out of the way in record time as some sort of bright rainbow (from which the noise seemed to be eminating) flashed by him, and latched onto Derek Morgan.

Of course, the genius wasn't known for his graceful limbs, and as he moved out of the path of destruction, he stumbled on his own feet and fell down, landing on the cemented floor with a small _oomph!_

Looking up, Reid was relieved to see that no one seemed to have noticed his lack of poise. Derek had big smile on his face, sure – but it was directed not in a mocking manner at Reid, but rather in a loving manner at the girl he was holding tightly in his arms.

Upon second glance, Reid could see how he'd mistaken the chick for a rainbow.

The girl was somewhat shorter than Derek, but Reid was sure that she was just as old as, or older than, the boy. Bright blond hair that was highlighted with streaks of purple and green was braided down to just past her shoulders, and a pair of cat's-eye glasses gave her the peculiar look of a 40's secretary. Or teacher.

Of course, her clothes rather contradicted that image. Even Reid knew that the maroon sweater, gold-and-white-striped peasant skirt, and combat boots weren't exactly what all the kids were wearing these days. Nor were the armload of jangling bracelets or bright, colorful, gumball-machine rings quite the standard.

Of course, maybe it was Reid's admittedly unheard-of IQ, but somehow, he deduced that _nothing_ about this girl was quite the standard.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Chocolate Thunder, I've been waiting for you all day!" The girl dramatically threw her head back, and a grin lit up Derek's face. He pulled her tighter into his embrace, and kissed the top of the girl's head.

"Silly goose, I told you I had to work."

"I know that. Wouldn't have stopped me from missing you and fantasizing about removing your big, bad managerial uniform, piece by piece." She giggled, and then shook her head. "And anyways, I thought that you got off at seven today."

"I did," the older boy murmured, his voice vastly different than any other time Reid had heard it today. "But the busses shut down early from the storm, and I had to walk. And I got a little . . . sidetracked."

"Sidetracked – ?" Before the girl could even completely voice the thought, her eyes landed on Reid, and her entire face lit up.

"OhmyGawd, and who is _this_ cutie?!" She squealed as she broke away from Derek's arms and took a step towards Reid.

Slightly overwhelmed, the boy backed up frantically until he had at least a few feet of space between them, his eyes wide as saucers and form faintly trembling as he gazed up at the girl.

A hurt and confused expressing lining her pretty face, the colorful one turned to face Derek, a question just on the tip of her lips.

But Derek spoke before she could even ask.

"That's Reid," he explained, stepping in and securely wrapping an arm around the girl once more. "I found him waiting for one of the busses up-high."

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, understanding flashing in her huge, brown eyes. She turned to face Reid, who was in the process of untangling himself from the floor. "All of the public transportation's spotty at best dear; they're down often, and in the blink of an eye."

"So I'd gathered," Reid muttered, swiping at the dust on the knees of his slacks. He finally looked up to see both of them intently observing him, and instantly tensed up, hating the attention.

"Reid," Derek spoke, his tone unsure, "this is Penelope."

There was the sound of a smack, and Derek's slight woof of pain, before a soft hand was touching Spencer's cheek.

The graze was so gentle that the young genius didn't jump or even flinch – a rare feat for him. He looked up into what had to be the warmest, kindest pair of eyes he had ever seen apart from his mother's. He blinked, and the girl smiled.

"Sweet-pea, are you okay? That was quite a tumble you took there."

Slowly, Reid nodded, and after another moment of searching his face, the girl seemed satisfied enough, and she backed off, nodding to Derek.

" _Now_ you can introduce me, you big galumph."

"Right," the boy grumbled, rubbing a spot on his arm. "Reid, this is Penelope Garcia."

"Penny, actually. PG, if you like, although I often prefer something more _adult._ " The girl waggled her eyebrows, and Reid felt his own lips tug up in a bit of a smile.

"Most people just call me Garcia, though. And this statuesque teddy bear prefers Baby Girl, himself – "

"You know it, mama," Derek grinned.

"– and I am the Keeper of Keys and Games here at Hogwarts," Penelope continued, seemingly without taking a breath. At Reid's confused look, she flashed that brilliant smile again, and explained, "I'm a tech-whiz, kiddo; I can fix anything, as long as it's hooked into the internet. I keep us informed and up-to-date. Besides that, I'm an expert baker, shoulder to cry on, and Supreme Goddess of Fashion for the Lair."

"The Lair?" Reid coughed, another shiver working its' way down his spine.

"It's what we call our little hidey-hole here – oh, but never mind that! Sugar, you're shivering!" Penelope fussed, hovering over him like a protective mother-hen. "Goodness, it's freezing out there, why – " Suddenly cutting off her own rambling, Penelope turned to face Derek, a positively scandalized look on her face.

" _You!"_ She said, pointing an accusing finger at the bewildered boy. "Why didn't you cover him up? Lend him your jacket or something!"

"Now, Baby Girl, – "

" _Ugh_ ," she sighed, taking a step back from both of them, and reaching her hands under her sweater. To the shocked silence of the two boys, Penelope quickly removed the maroon knit, revealing a bright yellow T-shirt underneath. With no hesitation, she tossed the shirt towards Reid, who stumbled back and somehow managed to catch the thing.

"Change out of that soaking wet shirt and put that on, okay, sweetie?" She directed tenderly. "Bring it over when you're done, and we'll have it dry by the fire in a jiffy."

She turned to Derek. "And you . . . Hotch says that dinner's almost ready, so get your delectable butt over there, okay?"

"Alright, sugar," the boy murmured, pulling her in closer by the wrist, and planting a small, quick kiss on her lips.

Giggling, Penelope broke away, and scurried off into the darkness, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be waiting!"

Derek watched her go, shaking his head with that goofy little smile still on his face, before turning back to Reid.

The younger boy was quickly unbuttoning his sopping shirt, blushing nervously, and taking a hint, Derek cast his eyes away again.

After a second, the kid spoke. "She's your girlfriend?"

Derek nodded, even though he knew Reid couldn't see him. "Yeah. Best friend, little sister, . . . basically, Penny's my everything."

"H-how long have you been together?"

Derek shrugged. "Pretty much my whole life. She was my best friend in preschool, we got married on the playground in kindergarten, fought in middle-school, reconnected for the better in eighth grade . . . we've been dating since . . . _freshman_ year, I think. After I got emancipated and took the job down here, that damn crazy woman told me she was coming too."

"Weren't her parents upset that she dropped out of high school? That she left?" Reid asked, slipping the sweater over his pale form. It was so _warm._

Hearing the kid wad up his dripping shirt, Derek finally looked, and held out a hand to take the fabric. "That's something you'd have to ask her about, kid. I learned a long time ago not to argue with Penelope. And, well . . . here we are, now."

"Do you love her?"

"Absolutely." There was no hesitation in Derek's voice. "I couldn't live without her."

"Hmm," Reid replied, his voice considerably calmer now that he was covered and dry. "Does . . . Does she live down here? W-with you, I mean?"

"Penny?" Derek snorted. "Good God, no. She has an apartment that's funded through her college or something. Wish they wouldn't make her have the roommate too, but, there you are." He took another step forward as he spoke. "She spends pretty much any time that she isn't sleeping down here. Luckily, everyone else loves her, so it's never been an issue."

"Everyone else."

"Yeah." Derek smiled just thinking about his whole group – the Team, as they jokingly called themselves. "Aaron, Jage, Emz – well, all of them. You'll meet them here in a bit, and maybe some of the others."

"O-others?"

There was a sudden silence behind him, and Derek whipped his head back around.

The kid had come to a halt several feet back, and was now standing stock-still in the darkness, his wide eyes plastered on Derek, voice shaking as he spoke.

"You – y-you and Penelope d-don't live here by yourselves?"

Derek cocked his head. "God, no. Have you seen this place? It's huge! We share it with plenty of others."

"H-how many?"

Derek shrugged. "About three dozen, I s'pose."

Reid glanced up in his face, searching, something like true fear glimmering in his eyes now.

"With so many people, how – how do you control them?"

Derek frowned. " _Control_ them?" He shook his head. "Kid, listen up, here; it's not my _job_ to _control_ them. These are all kids like you and me; transients, homeless, and friends. And this place here," he gestured to the cavernous area around them, "is a safe haven for _anyone_ who can find it. Most of us live together in groups, and we all have our own little territories down here. If we can, we get along, and if not, then we keep to ourselves. The point is, though, that this isn't like the outside, where one person is in charge and all heel his command; we work together down here, to stay hidden, and to survive."

Reid still looked uncertain. "How can you t-trust all of them? N-not to cause trouble, or d-do something reckless?"

"First off? I've known most of the people down here for years, and you for just under an hour, so why don't you check yourself and calm the judgment?"

Derek's tone was sharp, and the kid flinched back from it, a look of shame filling his delicate features. Instantly feeling guilty, the older boy tried to soften his voice when he continued.

"And secondly . . . We're all different people down here, Reid, but we all have the same goal; finding some comfort until we can make a better life for ourselves. And that doesn't happen if we don't find away to coexist."

"But I'm not one of you," Reid murmured, eyes locked firmly on the ground. "What if they – w-what if they try . . . ?" His voice trailed off, and Derek watched the way the kid picked at his sleeves, gripping his heavily-bruised wrists in his hands, a look of terror flashing across his face.

Trying to figure out exactly what had the kid so scared was a problem Derek intended to deal with later. Right then, all he wanted was to diffuse the situation peacefully. Gently, he reached out, cupping the boy's chin in one large hand, and gently tilting his head up.

Reid gave no resistance, and when his shining eyes locked onto Derek's, the older boy nearly stumbled back form the power in that hazel gaze.

It took him a few moments to catch himself and begin speaking. "Reid . . . I know it's foreign being down here, and you're probably out of your mind wondering what's going on . . . but I _promise_ you, on my honor, that everything is okay. These people we're going to? They're my kin. No one, and I mean _no one_ , is going to harm you; odds are, they'll totally love you, especially with Penny right there and spreading tales of how she's already met you." He laughed. "You'll probably have a nickname before the food's even hot."

Reid looked minutely less frightened, and Derek continued, unconsciously taking a step closer to the boy as he did so.

"No matter what else you think, remember what I said outside; I'm with you. And no one – _nothing_ – is going to harm you while we're down here, okay? You can trust that, kid."

Reid's eyes flittered to him, this time settling, and his gaze was softer, warmer, when he replied. "I trust _you._ "

Derek felt a rush of something pleasant in his belly. "Is that right?"

"Y-yeah," the kid nodded. His body becoming less and less tense under Derek's palm. "You haven't given me any reason . . . I m-mean, you don't . . ." He paused, flustered. "You're . . . you're _good."_

That make Derek light up inside, even if his face just showed a very light tug in his lips, the smallest of smiles. Well, hell . . .

His tone much lighter than before, he said, "I'll be a lot better once I get some grub in me, kid. Whaddaya say to some dinner?"

"I – I think that sounds good," Reid replied, just as his stomach let out a low gurgle. Derek laughed.

"Sounds like it. C'mon, Pretty Boy – let's go meet the family."

And. Slinging his arm over the younger boy's shoulder, the two of them meandered more deeply into the darkness, finally disappearing completely.

* * *

 **Author's Endnote:** I DID do the research, and while I found a number of bridges in and around Las Vegas, most of them are on cliffs, and don't have an underground part where people could actually live feasibly. The Tillman Bridge is one such example of this, according to Google and Wikipedia. I'm really basing it off of the Lane Bridge in my hometown, where there _is_ a trope of sheltered people who make a home under the thing. It seemed like the right spot for this story, so I'm begging you all to have patience with me, and remember that this is, in fact, an AU. Thanks, again.


	3. LookingForAPlace,SearchingForAFace

**Author's Note:** Long-ass fucking week, and it's still not over, yet. Uggggh. So sorry I didn't update yesterday, dearies. You don't even want to know — trust me. The only good thing about yesterday was _Criminal Minds_ officially announcing it's 11th season — annnnd now the show is officially longer-running than _Friends._ Even thinking about it makes me smile stupidly.

Anyhoo, in this chapter, we get to meet a few more characters, and really start to get Spencer's views on socializing, and what he thinks about the entire situation with Morgan, or people in general. As per requests, I'm trying to soften things up a bit, but . . . Well, it's Reid. You expect drama with the pretty face and dorky hair, non?

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _autumnamberleaves: Trust me, I'm hooked too! It's really becoming a problem, trying to get up early to write this, but so, SOOOO worth it._

 _Annber03: I think you're absolutely right about Reid/Garcia interactions being some of the best there are; she's such a loving auntie-type, and everyone wants to snuggers that little genius to death. They fit so well, I nearly ship them — sadly, though, I just can't take it that far. I think the only time her clothes will be coming off for him will be in instances like the previous chapter, LOLz. Again, I don't want to hurt you with all the angst . . . the show's just too full of it not to mention some things here and there — which, by the way, made me giggle so much that you caught Reid's fear of the inherent absence of light, too . . . And more whumpiness is coming in the form of two very special guest-stars, but there's a happy ending in store for this fic already, I promise you! I'm so glad you took a chance on this, though. It means a lot to me that you truly like it._

 _Kas3y: Truly, I LOVE the way your mind works — those are some of my most favorite types of stories, because they're more realistic than most fanfics, or even TV shows they're based off of, even if it's sad. Alas, though, I could never make it work. I love Diana Reid way too much, and I don's want to make her a bad guy, ya know? Thanks for the suggestion, though; I'll think about adding some more backstory, in that respect. And I really appreciate your time in reviewing, too. I hope this continues to work for you, even if it's veering. *Smiles*_

 _silverwrym: First off — your enthusiasm is infectious, and makes me want to write more. Stop that! I have to got to bed. XD. And while I definitely can't tell you everything, I do promise that at least one of those characters is going to make an appearance — and soon. Three guesses who. I'm honestly thinking that the story won't quite stretch that far into the future; I wanted to talk about Spencer in the immediate aftermath of the bullyg, and explore how he managed to pull himself back from the brink of destruction, or something . . . Dunno if I'll cover when he goes back to school (if he does *Evil laugh*), I'll have to see how I feel if and when we get to that point. In the meantime, there's still plenty of angst and sharing of secrets to be done; I hope you'll still be entertained, m'dear. Thanks, again!_

 _Sue1313: I totally agree with you about the dynamic between Morgan and Garcia. Yeah, either can be just a bit intimidating on their own, but together, they make for this delightfully insane couple, part serious and protective and part whimsical and joking. I ship them constantly, and thought their relationship might work for this fic. I'm glad you like it, though — we'll see some more of them, soon!_

 _DarkJediQueen: I promise, you won't need the patience of a saint, LOLz. I tend to update at least weekly, once I get a story going. No doubt you'll be seeing Chapter #4 within a few days, too. I'm so glad I've got your readerliness, though. It makes the place where my heart should be sing._

 _write that wrong: LOVE your username, just so you know. And thanks for the marvelous compliment! I've always loved AUs for just that reason, seeing the people I adore told in new and different ways — which is a challenge, but a fun one. I'm sure you'll like the next chapter, as well — I've still got another backstory to tell, and then some actual plot. Thanks for the lovely review!_

 _omgnotagain: Short, sweet, and to-the-point. Thank you, too. Awesome review!_

 _AZCatmom: I can't even tell you how nervous that whole thing made me, with the Tillman Bridge. I was researching for HOURS trying to find one that fit what I wanted, but . . . unless I moved the story out of Vegas, it wasn't happening. But I'm glad it works for you — and somehow, no matter where you go, things seem to mirror one another irrevocably, non? Thank you so much for the wonderful comments — I find writing incredibly soothing, even if it's not my forte, and it really means a lot to me that you think it's good. I hope you'll like the next bits as well, as I'm going to start twisting some of the characters to advance the plot, you know. *Grins* Can't wait!_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 _Looking For A Place, Searching For A Face_

* * *

As the pair had drawn closer and closer to the other side of the massive bridge, the area around them had gotten lighter and lighter and lighter, credit to a number of small trash-can and bon-fires that were burning slowly all around them. As they approached, Reid could begin to make out some figures grouped around various burnings, and he quickly cast his eyes away again, always hesitant around people.

Instead, the young genius studied the walls of the underside, faintly admiring the way that the flickering light created a warm glow in the area, casting off of the graffiti-covered cement in a way that didn't seem as scary as it did, well . . .

beautiful.

Not a word he'd normally associate with a place where the homeless gathered at night, but . . . there it was.

Nothing else about this place was normal, anyway.

After passing a few more clusters of adolescents – none of whom appeared to be as young as Reid, and quite a few who seemed older than Morgan – the duo was within shouting distance of a small group of kids gathered around a particularly large bonfire. Reid couldn't quite make out any distinct features, but he could see at least two girls, and possibly three guys.

He froze instinctively, and once more, Derek somehow seemed to sense his hesitance. The older boy turned around, and in one fluid move had covered the small distance between them and gotten down on one knee, looking directly into Reid's eyes.

"Kid," he started, using that soothing tone of voice he normally only whipped out on his mother or sisters, "I know that this is a little scary, and I know I kinda pushed you into it." Reid snorted at the word 'kinda,' and Derek managed to gracefully ignore that.

"Reid," he said quietly, his tone suddenly very serious, "You said that you trust me, right?"

Eyes wide, the other boy nodded his head.

"Then trust me now," Derek breathed. "I promise you, no one is going to hurt you; we're all friends here, you included. Just give 'em a chance."

There was a long silence between the two, and Derek, sensing something important was going on, said not a word. Reid's huge hazel eyes searched his for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, he seemed to have found something in Derek's face, and he gave the smallest of nods. And Derek couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Alright, then. Let's get some grub."

* * *

"Oh, there he is, there he is, _there he is!_ "

The loud squeal could have broken sound barriers, but Reid was really more concerned about the arms wrapping so tightly around his abdomen that he feared his appendix would burst. For several seconds, his vision was clouded by a pouf of bright blonde hair – and then the overwhelming scent of perfume faded, and Penelope took a step back, looking him over.

"Welcome to the Bat-Cave, sweetie."

Nervously rubbing at the bruises on his inner wrists, Reid took a look around, noting everything he saw in his marvelous eidetic memory.

It was a small bonfire, indeed, barely half his height and surrounded by a number of gravel boulders – eleven, Reid counted at a glance. A pile of blankets rested to the side, several of them partially draping over the rocks.

Three tents – the canvas worn and spotty with frayed edges and patch-sewn holes –lay just behind the bonfire, all set up, and one apparently in use, if the little glow seeping in from under the zipper-crack was anything to judge by. If he squinted, Reid could just barely make out the outline of a silhouette in there.

A clothesline was strung out overtop of his head, several garments already hanging from it, with a bucket set up underneath containing only a bar of soap and some quarters. There were a few small bags lying off to his right, and a number of people to his left.

Carefully avoiding eye-contact with anyone, Reid huddled in on himself, clutching his bag even closer. Somewhere in front of him, Penelope's voice softened even further.

"Reid, sweetie? D'you want to meet everyone real quick before we start eating?"

Reid was tempted to shake his head no, but the manners that his mother had instilled in him at such a young age won out, and, with much trepidation, he gave a very slight nod.

In the back of him, Derek gave him a very gentle shove in the general direction of the people he'd seen earlier, and Reid stumbled forward, just barely catching himself at the last minute. There was a muted giggle, and the boy looked up, embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he finally considered the people before him.

To the far left was Penelope, of course; she just exactly the same as she had before, only with an emerald-green poncho draped over her shoulder, and a large basket clutched tightly in her hands. She gave Reid a large smile, and his nerves eased just a little bit with that friendly expression.

Next, his eyes rolled to the other blonde girl, and, if it was even possible, his blush deepened.

 _Wow._ She had to be one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen – she made Alexa Lisbon look trashy. Slender and petite, the girl was almost exactly Reid's height, although she was obviously far older than he. She wore no makeup, and very plain clothes – a white button-up shirt over jeans and ballet flats – but her piercing blue eyes screamed of deduction and intelligence, and gave a startling dash of beauty to the already-comely girl. She gave a small wave with her fingers, and Reid shyly smiled back.

The boy next to her was far taller, and almost as muscular as Morgan. He had very thin, very straight hair, and brown eyes so dark that they looked almost black. He stood tall, as though confident, but had crossed his arms over his chest in a clear sign of either discomfort or aggression – Reid wasn't really sure which. All he knew was that the guy reminded him too much of some of the kids at school, and he quickly slid his eyes away.

The last person in front of him was another boy, this one slender and quite tall, like Reid. He had a very chiseled face surrounded by raven curls that might have been quite good-looking if he had been smiling, instead of bearing the anxious expression that he was now as he studied Reid studying him. The two boys gazed for several long seconds, measuring the each other up, before Reid nodded minimally, and the other made a tiny noise of assent. Then, they both cast their eyes elsewhere. Reid turned back to Garcia.

"Who . . . who is everyone?"

Looking delighted that he had finally said more than two words to her, Penelope rushed to make introductions, the words tumbling out of her mouth in rapid succession. She pointed to the blonde girl first.  
"This," she said, "is Jennifer Jereau – Jage – or Jenny – or Ni-ni, if you'd like – "

"Or how about just JJ?" The other girl cut in laughingly, her voice smooth and soft and with a slight Northern lilt to it. Her eyes flashed back to Reid, and she stuck out a hand. "Most of my friends call me that, anyway. And you are?"

"Reid, S-S-Spencer R-Reid," the boy stumbled over his words, his humiliation tripling when he made an effort to grab Jennifer's hand and wound up tripping, his arm flying forward and landing on the girl's chest with a resounding _thud._

"Oh, oh God, I'm _sorry_ , I didn't mean to do that, I'm so, so sorry – I c-can get real clumsy, and I'm so uncoordinated anyway – but I didn't mean to – sorry! – I – "

"Hey, hey, hey!" Jennifer interrupted him as seamlessly as she did Penelope, and cupped a hand on his cheek. "Spencer, it's okay! Goodness, you're not the first person in the world to stumble – and Lord willing, you won't be the last." She smiled.

"I – I j-just – I hope I didn't hurt you, Jennifer – "

"I'll live. And didn't I just tell you that it's _JJ_?" Jennifer – JJ – had a firm, but very gentle voice, and Reid finally looked into those sparkling blue eyes, all of his nerves showing in his still-trembling hands. She shook her head. "Goodness, only my mother calls me _Jennifer._ We'll have to whip you right into shape, Spence."

The genius opened his mouth to protest the nickname, and then shut it. He had no idea how to respond.

Luckily, Reid was saved by the light clearing of a throat, and then Penelope's voice started speaking again. "Right, you two. Jage, back off before you give him an embolism!"

Giggling, the blonde stepped back, and wove her arm through Penelope's, still grinning mischievously at Reid. Next to her, the other girl continued the introductions.

"Well, anyway, after that mighty display of grace, I suppose the next one you want to meet is Anderson." She gestured to the smaller of the two boys in front of Reid. "He's about half as dexterous as you are, Reid, and only a little smoother with the ladies."

"Oh, shut up," Anderson joked, a petulant scowl on his face as he looked up. "Like you're really one to talk, Miss-I-Kissed-A-Girl-And-I-Liked-It."

"I've told you already, punk, that was song. The only place I lock lips with the ladies is in your twisted dreams."

"That's right, you do," Anderson smirked.

Just as it looked like another retort was on the tip of Penelope's tongue, the last remaining boy — the one who had looked so unwelcoming at first — in the group stepped forward, jutting out a large, firm hand. "While the two lovebirds funnel their pent-up sexual aggression into childish insults, I guess I'll just introduce _myself._ Jonathon Wesley Simms."

"Prophet!" Garcia called over Anderson's shoulder, where she was still standing and arguing with the boy.

Jonathon winced. "Or, as PG likes to call me, _Prophet."_

Reid frowned curiously. "PG?"

"Her initials. Penelope Garcia. It's one of her favorite nicknames, PG – funny, considering that she's anything but."

"I'd noticed," Reid mumbled. "Why does she call you – ?"

"I have no idea," the other boy shook his head. "She likes to say I'm a genius, no matter how many times I tell her something to the contrary. When that woman gets an idea in her head, there's no stopping it."

Reid squinted slightly. "A genius?"

"I'm good with computers – nothing like our Mama Bear over there, but I know how to hack a corporate network, if I get bored enough." The other boy didn't seem interested in talking about his hobbies, which, if course, only made Reid more curious. He studied the brusque figure beside him, lost in thoughts.

Finally, Jonathon seemed to notice, and he raised an eyebrow at the genius.

"Something wrong, there?"

Embarrassed at being caught, Reid ducked his head. "N-no, not really. I – I was just thinking."  
"Well, ya looked pretty focused on in it." Jonathon spoke softly. "Spit it out, kid."

"I was just . . ." Reid licked his lips, wondering where to start. "I was just wondering why someone like you is somewhere like . . . like this."

"Someone like _me?"_ Jonathon's voice didn't sound so neutral anymore.

"Someone . . . someone with a chance in life. Someone who could make something of themselves."

At that, the older boy beside him turned and got down on his knee so rapidly that Reid couldn't even catch the movement in his peripheral vision. Before he could blink, hands around his arms had turned him face-to-face with Jonathon, whose seething eyes had him wanting to struggle out of the hold with everything he had.

Reid shifted slightly, and the fingers gripping him tightened briefly – a warning. Knowing he had no other choice, the young genius looked up, straight into the blazing gaze, and waited for something to happen.

It didn't take long.

"Listen up here, _kid_ , and listen good, because I'm only going to say this once: despite what you might think about all of us 'transients' who make a place to live off the public record, _every single damn one of us_ has, as you put it, a chance to _make something of ourselves._ "

"I never said – " Reid's protest was cut off before it could fully form.

"You didn't have to _say_. It's already obvious that you're like a lot of the others up above; you think we're jobless, lazy, wasting our lives chasing dreams that we could no more catch than a falling star."

"I _don't_ think that!" Now Reid was indignant at the idea, hating the way this person who barely knew him was talking as if he did.

"Oh, really?" Jonathon's eyebrow quirked, and his eyes took in Reid's tense form, the clenched fists and stiff shoulders. "Fine, then, kid – make it simple for me. What _do_ you think?"

Now, Reid stumbled. He had always been a private person, and sharing things, especially with strangers, had always been a struggle for him. "I . . . I . . ."

Jonathon looked equal parts victorious and disappointed. "That's what I thought." His stranglehold on Reid's arms loosened, and his hands slid off of the younger boy's shoulders. His black eyes never left Reid's hazel ones, flickering with something unidentifiable.

"A lot of you High-landers up there . . . you think you know a thing about us. Like just because we choose not to have a government-sanctioned address, we must all be boozers, losers, and pathetic. As if conforming makes you better, somehow." His frown deepened, a look of misery marring his normally handsome face. "You wouldn't think that Penelope's been accepted into CalTech, and she's just working a few semesters off-campus, would you? You wouldn't think that Jage is working on getting her GED so that she can go back to school in a few months? And, most certainly, you wouldn't guess that I'm in training to join the police academy; and after that, the Army's special forces."

Jonathon shook his head. "You seem like a sharp kid, but you make the same mistake as the rest of them; you judge by what you see, and don't _see_ what you judge. We're people, too, Reid – all of us. Get to know us a little, and you'll see something a lot more worthwhile than some hobos under a bridge."

More than a little admonished, Reid looked down at the ground, before nodding.

"I – I understand. And – and I'm sorry." Really, truly, he was. Very much so.

Warm, gentle fingers slid under his cheek, and delicately, Jonathon tipped his chin up, looking Reid straight in the face again.

"Apology accepted, kid."

Reid cocked his head at him, causing the fingers to slide away. For just a second, they both stared at one another, and then Reid voiced something he had been wondering . . .

"I – I'm curious, then. Do you – do you prefer Jonathon, Jon, or _Prophet?"_

At this, the older boy actually smiled. "Jon, actually. Only PG gets to nickname me – and Jonathon is what my old man used to call me." A shadow passed over his face, and Reid sensed it would be best to avoid that subject altogether.

Words suddenly rang out behind them. "It's what I call you, too, _Jonathon_."

* * *

Reid nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, stumbling back in his surprise – and, much to the genius's humiliation, his butt landed firmly on the ground for the third time that evening.

What made it worse was the fact that his companion didn't so much as flinch at the intrusion. Rather, the older boy turned around, and, smirking congenially at the person who'd snuck up on them, drawled, "Hey, Hotch."

Taking an example from Jon, Reid quelled his beating heart, and looked up, cautiously studying the new arrival.

Tall, thin but still fairly muscular, and with short-cut black hair, the boy didn't look much like the joking type. In fact, the stern look in his dark eyes and very faint scowl on his lips almost made him look like someone's father. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest, and Reid took just a moment to note the professional dress of the boy/man – black khakis, a white polo, and expensive-looking loafers – before realizing, with a start, that he was being studied just as keenly.

Blushing, Reid's eyes darted up for a split second to meet those dark, penetrating ones, before his shyness came back with a vengeance, and he looked down.

Intently focusing on the ground beneath his feet, Reid could hear every word being spoken above him.

"Jage said you were going to be out a bit longer," Jon said, the question clear in his tone.

"I finished my assignments a lot quicker than I thought I would. As soon as Sean was settled, I thought I'd come here to see Emily before going home." A brief pause, and then . . .

"Who's this?"

The tone seemed friendly enough, but Reid still flinched. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he'd long ago gotten it twisted that anyone who wanted to know more about him was a more likely candidate to hurt him.

And he was so tired of being hurt . . .

A hand on his shoulder had him returning from the dark direction of his thoughts, and Reid gingerly accepted the help, fighting not to blush yet again as Jon clasped his arm and helped the younger boy to his feet.

"This," Jon said, letting go of Reid but staying in close proximity, every bit of him oozing a protective edge, "is Spencer Reid. Ah – Reid?" He questioned, looking at the younger boy for clearance.

Reid nodded. Only his mother ever really called him _Spencer_.

"And, Reid, _this_ is Aaron Hotchner – Hotch, if you don't want your head ripped off. He's our eldest and wisest," Jon continued with a smirk, one that neither of the other boys returned."He's kinda like our boss-man; group leader and rule enforcer all rolled into one." In a whisper just for Reid, Jon added, "Oh, right – and he's JJ's big brother."

As Reid absorbed this information, Hotch spoke only to Jon, a flicker of irritation crossing over his face.

"And what is _he_ doing here?"

"Derek brought him!" Penelope's voice eased over the group from somewhere behind them, apparently having finished her argument with Anderson for the time being.

Hotch turned to face Morgan, who had been leaning up against one of the larger stones behind them, listening idly.

"Morgan?"

The muscular boy released a long, slow breath. "Hotch, he was up on the bridge, waiting for a bus. For _hours._ They've all went home, and so has everyone else – and look at it outside, man!" He gestured to the nearby awning, where everyone could indeed see that the rain – and hail – had only gotten worse in the hour since it had started.

Morgan turned back to the older boy. "I wasn't gonna leave him up there alone, and we couldn't go back to his place. This was the only option, Hotch. I don't regret a thing."

"And if he decides to call Gideon or someone else? Will you regret it _then?"_

"He won't, Hotch. He's just a kid, and he was alone. You have to _for-fucking-give me_ for wanting to keep him safe and get some food in him." A scowl passed over Derek's face.

Looking equally displeased, Hotch stared at him, his gaze dark and more than a little intimidating – at least, Reid seemed to think so. But Derek just met his eyes head-on, and stared right back. The silence grew, as the seconds stretched by.

"I'm not going to say anything."

Everyone in the group swiveled their heads at the interruption, and Reid cursed his pale skin once more as blood flooded his cheeks at the attention. He coughed, trying to cover it up, and then spoke.

"I – I'll admit, it wasn't my idea to c-come down here. Derek kind of twisted my arm, and if it was up to me, I'd be halfway gone."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _then why aren't you?_

Reid stood, trying to make himself appear just a little bit taller. "I don't have to stay, though, if it's going to cause such duress. I don't want anyone upset." He reached down, grabbing the bag he'd long ago set on the floor, and then turned, eyes landing on Garcia and JJ. "T-thank you for b-being so kind to me. It was . . . it was really nice."

As he turned back and made to leave, Hotch saw something flash across the boy's face; something familiar that bit in his gut.

It was pain. _Pain_ , and _fear,_ and _sadness_ were shadowing this kid's eyes as if it was all he knew. And not just the physical kind that Hotch knew on such a personal level – although he hadn't missed the fading bruises on the kid's wrist and the back of his neck, no – but the emotional, inner-turmoil that showed doubt, insecurity, hatred . . . like the kid was just some sort of sponge, soaking up misery.

What hit Hotch hard, like a punch in his mind, was the fact that even though this kid – Reid – was obviously unhappy, so obviously desperately in need of something other than fists and fury, none of it showed. He had a quiet, calm, diminutive demeanor, and none of his pent-up feelings showed – except for that brief look of misery in his eyes.

It did Hotch in completely.

"Wait. Reid. Reid!"

The younger boy froze, and, very cautiously, turned around. "Yes?"

Even his voice was hesitant, so unsure of when this fairly safe situation could potentially turn scary. Hotch didn't let the familiar agony that caused him show in his face.

"You can't go out there – it's a tornado warning. You'll get lost, or killed, or both. And I'm not letting someone from the family get hurt." Hotch's voice almost tripped over the _family_ part, and he could see from the way Reid frowned curiously that the kid had noticed it too.

But Hotch couldn't help it. He might not know the boy, but something about Spencer Reid inspired the protective instinct in him. Maybe it was his frail form that somehow seemed to be leaking a quiet inner strength. Maybe it was his much smaller age, but clearly much-larger intelligence. Maybe it was the shadows under his eyes, or the shadows in them.

No matter what way, Hotch knew that, for tonight at least, he had to help the kid. It wasn't a question of _if._

He had to.

Of course, he spoke none of this out loud.

"Stay," he said firmly. "We've got plenty of food, and some spare blankets. In the morning, if things have died down a bit, we'll see about getting you home."

There was a moment of silence, in which he watched Reid, and Reid watched him.

Finally, the younger boy nodded.

Not waiting for any further confirmation, Hotch turned on his heel, and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "Let's eat!"


	4. Is Anybody Here I Know?

**Author's Note:** Might seem kind of weird to be posting again at this time of day, but I cannot bring myself to apologize; I had to get this out ASAP, since tomorrow is my last day off of the session, and our whole kitchen is springing to rent a pontoon boat for six hours of at-sea partying (by which I mean movie marathons, sandwich building, and some dancing to the Top 40). And anyways, this idea kinda wouldn't leave me alone, after reading one of the most recent reviews I got. *Smiles*

Thanks again for everyone keeping up with this; it's one of my more popular stories, and it means a lot to me that people like it so much, especially when considering the subject matter. It hits me in the feels, at least, and gives me great pleasure that people are enjoying it so. And, huzzah, I've got a tentative plot line planned out. I have no idea how many chapters (either a lot of short ones or a few more very log ones) before I close up the story that I've been wanting to tell. And soon, another leading lady will make her appearance, as well as the final antagonist, so keep your eyes out for that, eh?

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _First and foremost, many thanks to Annber03, whose wonderful review gave me inspiration to write out the backstory for Hotch and JJ in the following chapter. It started off differently, but my muse kind of went insane, and I loved it far too much to change it. Thank you, m'dear — as always, your review proves to make my day!_

 _DarkJediQueen: Believe you me, I perpetually want to hug that poor little dear. So unsure, so soft and kind, so selfless even to his own degradation . . . It's wrong that I love him so much because of all those things, right? But, yeah, Reid totally would have left at tube slightest hint of trouble — he's never one to let a conflict center around him, you know — or at least, that's how I prefer him. XD. Hopefully, he'll start to gain some confidence as this fic goes on, with the support of what will hopefully become some wonderful friends. We'll see . . . And thanks for the review. It pleases me that this pleases you._

 _rose and 10: So, so sorry! I didn't even consider that some people might not get the reference to the bruises. No, they're not from Diana Reid (she's far too loving to do something like that, even during an episode, I think!). They're actually a reference to a story from Reid's childhood he told in Episode 10 of Season 03, "Elephant's Memory." I'll explain it later, but let's just say it involves bullying from Spencer's fellow students._

 _Sue1313: Glad you still think that this is good; I've always loved Hotch in a paternal role with Reid, and IntoTheWilds suggested that, as kids, Hotch and Morgan wouldn't get along anyways, so it made sense to have them both be whatever level of protective for our baby genius. I dig the drama, you know. Thanks for the compliment!_

 _Annber03: That's such a good point, I never really considered Hotch taking in the physical manifestations of what Reid suffers through . . . Emotionally, I wanted there to be a connection, and for each to want to protect the other, but I honestly never even thought of Hotch and Reid sharing that slightly abusive past . . . Oh, you might have given me the BEST idea for a conversation to happen with the two of them! I have to go write this down! (Oh, and as for Jonathon? He was one of the main characters on "Suspect Behavior," but they all called him "Prophet." On, like, the few episodes where the two shows crossed over, I always shipped him and Reid as friends like Morgan and Reid. he SO seems the type.) I promise there's some nice things to come; I've officially decided the three people I want to be Reid's main companions in this story, and they'll both enter stage right very soon. Can't wait, and I hope you still like it. Lots of angst, still, but a heartwarming bit soon, right in the rain where it belongs, LOLz._

 _BAUProfileQueen: Nice penname, my fellow addict. Really made me take notice. ;) And as sorry as I am for the addiction, I like that I've got you hooked. Chapter #4, on delivery; fan fiction with a smile. I hope You'll still be around for the fifth installment — more drama starts to kick in, finally!'_

 _Kas3y: First time I've veer had positive swearing in a review — thank you for making me smile. I'm forever uncertain about the things that I post (isn't that the segue of a writer?) and to hear such wonderful compliments really assures me, as well as keeps me motivated to write more and more of this. Thank you, and I'm glad you like Hotch. I love him as a 'jerk,' like in SugaKane01's "Wicked Games." First time trying to write him as this gnarled, protective alpha-male sort, but I'm enjoying it so mucht hat I might just have to try it again, you know? *Smiles*_

 _MW3addict: Thank you for the wonderful compliment! It's always a pleasure to hear that someone is enjoying whatever I'm posting — and I sincerely hope I continue to match your expectations with future chapters. May this continue to be different, in a good way!_

 _Silverwrym: I'm kind of in love with Anderson myself — he's been a pertinent plot device in so many episodes, would it really KILL them to make him the new team member, now that Jennifer Love is gone? *Sighs* But I'm glad someone else was thrilled about that. He'll have a small part to play in this, too. Like I said, I'm just going all out to make every reference I can. But thanks for the lovely compliment — I adore delving deeper into stories, and mine usually wind up being more about characters' backgrounds and feelings than actual plot, XD. Still, there's more to come; I hope you'll stick around!_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 _Is Anybody Here I Know?_

* * *

"You and H-Hotch are siblings?"

They were all sitting around a blazing fire, contentedly digging into huge bowls of creamy broccoli-cheese soup from the restaurant where one of them worked, and conversation had been low, light, and comfortable for the last half-hour or so.

But Reid couldn't help his curiosity – his mother always told him that highly improbable scenario about it killing a cat, no matter how many times Reid pointed out that it didn't make sense.

And his curiosity about Hotch had only grown ever since his strange meeting with the older boy. One moment, he seemed cold and moody, and the other almost paternal in his protective controls over the group. He called them his family, and clearly cared about them – but then there was that thing with Derek, and the harsh way he'd spoken to Jon as they prepared the fire . . .

Reid had no idea what to think. All he knew was that he wanted more information on the boy. And if he could get some insight on the lovely JJ as well, well . . .

The aforementioned blonde smiled at Reid, while the older boy scowled.

"And how do you know that?" He growled.

Biting his lower lip, Reid considered for a moment before answering. "I heard it mentioned before," he said cautiously.

The lack of a name mentioned didn't go unnoticed, and from across the circle, Jon mouthed a _thanks_ in Reid's direction.

Unfortunately, Hotch picked up on the paucity as well, his frown deepening. "Who – ?" he started, only to have his sentence cut off with a very firm smack to the arm, provided by JJ.

"Hush, Aaron. It's no big deal, lay offa Spence." She turned then to the younger boy, a matronly look on her face. "You'll have to excuse my big bro; he's private and suspicious, and a lot of things that don't make him any fun to tease."

"Who's teasing?" Hotch grumbled, rubbing his arm. He turned to JJ. "And don't hit me."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Okay, boss-man."

Reid watched the exchange with some degree of fascination. He'd never had a sibling. "Did – I m-mean, if you don't mind me asking – did you guys grow up in Las Vegas?"

Hotch's mumbled "Yes" overlapped with JJ's smiled "No," and for a second, both looked at eachother as if there was going to be another slap in order.

Finally, JJ broke the silence. "Sorta. Hotch and his little brother Sean were born and raised here. I'm a Pennsylvania native."

"Oh," Reid said, a curious frown on his face. "Are – are your parents divorced? Or something?"

"Or something," JJ answered.

"They've never met," Hotch said, and underlying note of bitterness in his words.

Reid cocked his head curiously. "How – ?"

"His dad and my mother aren't married – they barely know each other. Jack Hotchner is a married man, and my mother was a nice, widowed waitress he met on a weekend business trip to Philadelphia." JJ had on a faint smile while she recounted, but it didn't reach her eyes. Like she was trying to laugh off the sorry escapade that lead to her existence, but couldn't quite hide the fact that she cared very much.

"They . . . spent a couple of days together, and said their goodbyes. I never even knew that I had a living, breathing father in this world until my freshman year of high school."

" _Father_ is a strong word to use," Hotch spat, and Reid was startled at the amount of bitterness in his voice. At the _anger._

JJ, however, shrugged it off. "I was in the hospital from an asthma attack, and they found a blood clot. The doctors asked my mom for my medical history, and she had to give them my father's information. I kinda . . . " she drifted, something shifting in her bright, blue eyes. "I snuck into the file, and the next time I was alone, I made the phone call."

Tears were forming in her eyes, and, shocking the entire group, it was Hotch that leaned over and took her hand, squeezing kindly, lovingly.

"Sean and I were both home," Hotch spoke softly, "and I was the one to answer the phone."

"He told me that I wouldn't find a dad at that number, and – " JJ actually laughed through her tears, "and he _hung up on me!_ " She turned to Hotch. "I still can't believe you did that, Aaron!"

Hotch gave his own grim smile. "If it makes you feel any better, you got me back and then some."

JJ squeezed his hand briefly, and turned back to the rest of the group. "I kept calling, every evening. And either _he_ would answer," she gestured to Hotch, "or no one would pick up at all." There was a small pause, in which JJ gathered the last of her self-control, and Aaron finally let go of her hand, but didn't lean back in his seat, ready in case he would be needed again.

"After a few weeks of that, he finally asked me why I kept calling, and I just . . . I just started talking. About anything. _Everything._ I basically told him my life story, about how I overheard my mom talking about that drunken weekend 14 years ago, about my big sister Roz and how she was going through a bad time . . . stuff I never even wrote down in a diary, for heaven's sake. And he just . . . he listened. To all of it. He talked me through another crying fit – "

"I do that a lot." Hotch's eyes gleamed mischievously.

"Shut up." JJ didn't miss a beat. "Anyways . . . we started making the phone calls a regular thing; he even let me talk to Sean after a few months. And once he . . . once he told me why I wouldn't want to come down and visit the man who, and I quote, _sired me_ , I was perfectly content to have a relationship that didn't involve personal contact for the time being."

Reid almost didn't speak, feeling the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. But, as it always did, his curiosity won out.

" . . . What changed?" He gestured between the two still sitting awfully close. " I – I j-just . . . I mean . . . Obviously, you _did_ meet."

Hotch's eyes darkened, and JJ suddenly got very quiet – and, for a second, Reid realized he'd broken some unspoken rule, was treading on private territory.

But then, JJ spoke.

"It was my sophomore year, and . . . and someone very close to me died. My mother started drinking, and I dropped out of school. We just stayed in the house all day, not doing anything but puttering around, barely eating, just . . . _existing._ I didn't even call Aaron after I told him about the funeral." She laughed, bitterly. "Not the best way to deal with it, I know. But _c'est la vie,_ right?" She reached out, unseeing, and grasped Aaron's hand again. He didn't push her off. "One of my neighbors eventually got involved, and had my mom admitted to an in-patient facility. And I . . . I ran away."

"I still don't know how the Hell she made it to Vegas on her own, but just a few months after she called me that last time, here she shows up on my doorstep, dripping wet and exhausted-looking, a book-bag full of things in her hands, and telling me she needs to talk to me." Hotch spoke more tenderly than any of them had ever heard him be before.

"He's been taking care of me ever since," JJ finished, a genuinely loving look on her face. "Aaron gave me space, talked me through things when I needed it, and left me along when I didn't. He fed me, helped me find my way around . . ." She smiled at the memories. "When the time was right, he found me a job, helped me pick out an apartment . . . God, he's even making me go back to school."

Hotch smiled ruefully. "A few more weeks until your GED, and then it's straight to college."

"Yes, sir," JJ rolled her eyes again. She reached over to get some crackers from the small pile of packets next to her. "He's still _so_ determined that I get a degree in _anything_ but media relations, but . . ." she shrugged as she addressed the group. "What can I say? It's what I want. Not all of us can be big, hot-shot lawyers."

Hotch gave what might have been a smile – for him. "I'm not technically a lawyer until I pass the bar, Jage."

The blonde waved her arm impatiently as she swallowed a mouthful of soup. "Like that'll be a problem. You work full-time, and study all the rest. You'll graduate and have your own firm, Aaron."

Again he smiled affectionately at her, and she ruffled his hair. Reid watched, his mind picking things apart in that way it always did.

"Do you two live down here, too?" He finally blurted out.

Hotch gave him that unreadable, appraising look again; JJ shook her head.

"I've got my own place, and Aaron lives at his house with Sean. This is just a second home. My best friends are here, and so's the girl that my brother's going to marry."

"I am _not_ engaged to Emily!" Hotch protested wearily.

"Pish-posh," Penelope cut in. When she found herself on the receiving ends of one of those hardened glares, she didn't so much as flinch. "Come _on_ , Hotch, we all know it's a matter of time before you pop the question. The only people I've seen as happy as you two are me and my Der-Bear." Morgan grinned at that.

Hotch, meanwhile, was stumbling, trying to keep up his controlled exterior. "I love Emily – " he broke off at the small squeal from Penelope, and waited patiently for her to finish. "But that doesn't mean I want to _get married._ " He looked visibly shaken by the idea.

"Guess JJ'll be tying the knot before you, bub." Jon set his plate down by his feet.

"What?" The blonde looked as shocked as Reid hoped he didn't.

"Oh, you _know_ ," the older boy spoke with a feigned indifference, a small note of laughter in his voice. "If you would just agree to one date, that LaMontagne kid would have you swept off your feet and into a white dress before you could teach him to stop saying _y'all_."

On her fair skin, JJ's blush was obvious. "I've already told Will that I'm not interested in dating right now. I just want to get my education done – the _right_ way."

"Speak for yourself," Anderson spoke in that low, smooth voice of his. "The _second_ I've got all my credits, I am _gone_ from college. The FBI Academy already accepted my admission."

Most of the group looked disinterested by this, but Reid perked up a bit. "You're going into the FBI?"

Delighted to have someone listening to him, Anderson smiled, nodding his head.

"I've been dreaming of it since I was little, and my dad told me stories about work. I mean," he cut off, looking for the first time since Reid had met him just slightly apprehensive, "I get a little scared because I'm younger than most of the people they recruit, and I don't have any police training or experience, but . . . it's my dream." He shrugged. "I hafta go after my dreams, don't I?"

Reid nodded. "Age is but a vessel that might harbor ineptitude. However, is in our determination, and our hearts, that we may actually find one worthy of our judgment."

He looked up to find the entire group watching him, and Reid blushed once more.

Derek looked over at him. "I like that – who said it?"

Reid looked at him strangely. "I . . . I did?"

"That was lovely, Spencer," JJ smiled at him.

"Wouldn't have taken you for a writing-type, kid," Jon said.

Reid shrugged. "I'm not, really. The only thing I like about English class is all of the reading."

Penelope leaned over Derek, holding out a fist. "Math and science more your track, am I right? Gimme a pound, dawg!"

Reid looked warily at the proffered hand. "I – what?"

Everyone tittered. Penelope ruffled Reid's hair instead, and sat back to finish her soup. "Well, anyways, congratulations, Anderson. I heard you were waiting for your letter, but I didn't know you'd gotten it yet."

"Thanks," Anderson smiled genuinely. "Now, if I could just get boss-man here to come with me, there'd be no excuses not to get all my homework done and all my classes passed and still be in bed on time like a good little boy."

Hotch raised his eyebrow. "Sounds tempting, but I'd rather stay here with Emily." He looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She went out to get Elle or something. Thought she might've been picked up by Gideon again." Jon spoke around a mouthful of food.

"Who's Gideon?" Reid interrupted. It was the second time this evening that he'd heard the name, and he didn't miss the way that everyone's face darkened at the mention of it.

For a moment, no one said anything, and Reid wondered if his question would go unanswered.

"Gideon was – well, _is_ – a cop. He used to be in Vice, and he was kinda . . . well, he was kinda like a friend to us," Derek started, bitterness coloring his voice. "He made friends with me and Hotch, and kinda got to know the rest of the group along the way. He protected us from other cops, brought us food and clothing when he could get his hands on it . . . Even bailed Elle out of jail one time."

The older boy paused, and Reid said nothing, sensing a _but_ coming.

"But," Derek said, "About two years ago, the man got promoted to a Sergeant in his department. And suddenly, it's not enough that he's putting away gang-bangers and drug dealers. No, Gideon goes to all the press he can find, and tells them he's going to _fight the city's homeless problem._ "

Reid was confused. "Isn't . . . I mean, I remember seeing that press conference. I thought Sergeant Gideon was talking about trying to find everybody homes, getting them into schools, support systems, job . . ."

Hotch snorted. "Hardly. I guess the people he worked for wanted to see progress right away, so the first thing Gideon did was arrest Elle again. He told the press that she was a suspect in some shooting, and that he was _thoroughly questioning her_." Hotch shook his head, disgust in his voice. "Everyone ate it up. Jason Gideon, Man With A Plan, being _so_ proactive with the vagrants and filth on the streets."

"Did this Elle . . . did she . . . ?"

"No way," Derek shook his head. "Impossible. Gideon just wanted to look good, and he screwed her over because of her record, and the fact that she trusted him made it all the easier."

"So you hate him." It wasn't a question.

There was a simultaneous group nod. Penelope spoke. "He's tried to get in with us since then, wants tips on where he can find certain individuals that we might or might not happen to meet in the underground network, but . . ."

"But Mama here told him if he ever came within ten feet of someone she loved again, she would break in every laptop she ever owned in the future by using them to personally erase his police file and ruin his credit score. Over and over and over again." Derek laid an arm around the blonde's shoulder, and actually smiled as he kissed the top of her head.

"Couldn't help myself," Penelope giggled. "No one messes with _my_ family."

Everyone in the group looked a little softened by that, and there was no sound for a few moments, as soup was finished. It was only when JJ had collected all of the bowls and spoons, and Penelope was passing out chocolate-chip cookies from a bag in her purse, that someone again spoke.

As it turned out, that someone was Hotch.

"Well, we're turning out to be excellent conversationalists, aren't we? We've told Reid nothing but depressing stories since he got here."

Derek turned to face the kid. "He's right, Pretty Boy. Save us from ourselves – tell us something about you."

Around the huge mouthful of cookie he'd just swallowed, Reid shrugged. "There's not much to tell, honestly."

"Oh, c'mon!" Penelope plied. "You're a wise-talking little cutie who was waiting for a bus late at night. Clearly, there's a story there."

Reid shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable. "I don't, ah . . . that's not really – "

"What's your favorite subject in school, kid?" Derek cut in, rescuing Reid from having to answer.

This was not lost on Reid, and he smiled gratefully at the older boy. "Math . . . I like math."

Everyone around the fire groaned jokingly, except for Penelope and Jon – both of them smiled approvingly.

"That's a good subject to like," Jon said. "Take care of your math skills, and there's nothing you can't do in this world."

Reid nodded. "I was actually considering majoring in it in college. Or maybe Chemistry – or Engineering, that's a fascinating subject, too." He shrugged. "My advisor recommends going for all three, but I don't want to get too stressed out in college."

"You already know what you want to do in college?" Hotch seemed surprised.

Reid couldn't understand the confusion. "Well – w-well, yes. I'm graduating high school this year."

Everyone stared, and Reid was reminded of the way people always looked at him in school – shock, awe, apprehension.

 _Anger, contempt, disgust._

He shook his head , trying to force back the thoughts, and did his best to stay still in his seat, warily watching the group as they watched _him._

"Are you . . . are you like a genius or something?" Anderson asked, his voice unreadable.

Reid bit his lip. "I don't – I don't think that intelligence c-can be accurately measured or quantified, actually. However, I d-do have an eidetic memory, and an IQ of 187, and I can read 20,000 words per minute." He trailed off, getting more and more uncomfortable by the stares, and looked down, picking at the sleeves of the sweater he was wearing so that he didn't have to focus on the stares he should have long been used to by this point in life.

There was a few moments of silence, and then a hand clapped on his shoulder. "My man!" Derek smiled, his voice rich and warm like maple syrup.

Reid looked over, unused to the positive reaction. "What?"

"You got some serious game there, kid; chicks dig smart folks, right?" He turned to face JJ and Garcia, who were both grinning.

"Trust me, kid, in a few years, that pretty face and big brain'll make you even more popular than you are now!"

"It's not like I could be any _less_ popular," Reid mumbled under his breath.

Hotch glanced over at him sharply. "What was that?"

Reid immediately shook his head. "N-nothing. I didn't say anything."

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, but was stopped cold by the look Derek shot him; the muscular boy slowly shook his head, angling towards the genius in a defensive manner, everything about his posture _daring_ Hotch to try something.

Hotch nodded minimally. He and Morgan might barely get along down here, but it hadn't stopped them from becoming family – especially with the latter being so close to his little sister.

He knew what the darker-skinned boy was trying to say; that _he_ would talk to the kid, and that _Hotch_ should back off.

Hotch raised one eyebrow, but asked no more questions.

They all sat back in a somewhat amicable silence, and finished their dinner.


	5. Nothing'sGoingRight – Everything'sAMess

**Author's Note:** Oh, man. Oh, boy. Oh, boy! Ohboyohboyohboyohboyohboy —

Sorry. I'll stop. I'm home again. I'm out of camp, and out of Canada, and back home in the sweet, desolate humidity of the Show-Me State. Gawd, I never thought I'd be so psyched to see my old bedroom walls again . . . Thought I might just curl up on the couch and watch every old episode of _Criminal Minds_ on DVD to celebrate, but halfway through "L.D.S.K," I got some inspiration, and then . . . well, this happened. In all honesty, this is probably my favorite chapter so far, if only because I _finally_ get to play with one of my favorite CM characters ( _silverwrym,_ you totally called it, XD), and then get to have some more delicious drama with wonderful Spencer . . . Oh, this is bliss.

I'm SO happy to be home! *Hugs*

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _Guest: Thank you so, SO much for the compliments! I too am a hu-uge fan of overprotective Morgan and Hotch — especially when they're bashing heads, and especially-especially when it's over the delectable Spencer Reid. Just delicious. And while I don't want to give anything away, I can promise that at least one of the senior members IS going to appear in this story, and they probably will be an adult. I'm still making the final decision as to which one I want to write as, so you'll see within a chapter or two. Thanks for the idea, though!_

 _rose and 10: He really had better talk to him, hadn't he? THAT'S a conversation coming soon — I can't wait to write the thing!_

 _Guest 2.0: Wow . . . kind of a breathtaking thing to say. I can promise you there are loads of far better AUs out there than my story (can even recommend some in the next Author's Note, if you want), but that compliment really made me smile. Thank you so, so much for that._

 _Kas3y: Like I've said; Hotch-Reid interaction is second in my book only to Morgan-Reid. I enjoy it far too much, especially with something like this where I can make them kind of connect. I always thought it was a missed point on the show that they never had a sit-down between the two men, where both could confide in one another about their rough childhoods and respective father issues . . . Ugh. I need to find some fan fiction with THAT situation. (Back on track, though . . . Yeah, we'l have some more of that, soon!)_

 _Annber03: Smart men are INCREDIBLY sexy — which might explain why we all love Reid so much, in part; his looks, parallel to his I.Q., are OFF THE CHARTS. I love that you caught Reid's sudden discomfort with the attention the group gave him after he accidentally revealed how intelligent he was; I've always loved how in the earlier seasons of CM, Spencer was SO shy about admitting his extraordinary mind, sure that people were going to not believe him — or, if they did, degrade him for it. Kind of cute, even if t shouldn't be, LOLz. Truth be told, I was incredibly nervous bout making Hotch and JJ related, but I really wanted to emphasize the 'family' aspect of the team in this vignette, and I couldn't shake the idea that he'd be the perfect big brother to her. As long as you ignore the fact that they look nothing alike, I can see it . . . if I squint. Much like I can start to almost like Elle after all these years. I know I've told everyone who watches the show that her leaving was, like, the best part of Season Two (besides "Revelations," XD), but as I've rewatched the episodes more and more, I start to sympathize with her frustration, her anger . . . I almost like her, and do want her to appear, in whatever capacity, in this story too._

 _Thanks again for the fantastic review. You always make me smile, and inspire me to write more when I'm on here. I love that._

 _silverwrym; I swear, there's no need to thank me! If my heart hadn't already been stolen by Spencer Reid, I think Anderson would have been my boo of the show; he's also a certain caliber or attractive, and he gets into plenty of trouble on his own, non? And I'm glad someone else liked the 'dirtbag' side of Gideon as well. Even if I enjoyed him a bit on the show, I SO much more a Rossi girl. And the way he left . . . UGH. If I had a heart, it would tear apart every time I rewatched those few episodes of Season 03. But I'm happy you're satisfied with the angst, since you're sort of the queen of the genre; don't worry, lots of 'talks' are coming up — although some of them might not be with who you're expecting!_

 _RissaGrace17: Thanks so much for the compliment. I guess your wish is my command, since this is the next chapter here, LOLz._

 _DarkJediQueen: You never have to apologize for reading! I'm flattered that people like my work in the first place — and I'm so, SO happy that you're liking everyone's backstories and by-products so far. Still some more to come of that, so I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!_

 _Sue1313: Yep — I love them opening up to one another, too. I'm such a sucker for bonding moments like that that I can't help but write them in whatever I can, LOLz. Be prepared for more, though — for a reserved genius, I'm making little Spencer open up to several people in this little fic. Thanks for the comment!_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 _Nothing's Going Right – Everything's A Mess_

* * *

Shortly after the last of the plates was collected and everyone refused a second helping of cookies for dessert, everyone split off into groups for the night; JJ and Garcia had gone off to tend to the fire and have some private discussion, Hotch and Jonathon were deep in debate about some of the classes offered at the Bureau, and Anderson was taking up with some boy that Spencer hadn't met yet.

It was with some semblance of courage – or maybe just loneliness – that Reid approached this final duo. His small feet padded very softly on the ground.

" – appreciate the concern, man, but – "

"As long as my father doesn't find out, there'll be no consequences to our actions. If she repents – "

"She doesn't _need_ to repent, she needs Gideon to get the Hell offa her ass!"

"Don't swear on the Bible!" The other boy's voice raised, and Anderson took a step back, looking mildly alarmed. Eyes darting around wildly, they landed on Reid, and a mixture of surprise and relief spread over his face.

"Hey, kid."

Reid held up his hand in a tiny wave, and turned his eyes to the other boy as he swiveled around, gaze following Anderson's.

He was tall – taller than Derek, and possibly taller than Hotch. But thin – lanky, really, and made to appear more so by the loose and worn clothes that covered his string-bean frame. Shaggy chestnut hair flopped into his face, but Reid could still make out some of the features; dark brown eyes, smooth skin speckled with stubble, a smile that barely reached his lips . . .

Really, he would have been quite handsome, if not for the timid way he held himself – if not for the apprehension written on every inch of his still-very-young face.

He was looking Reid up and down at the same time, measuring him up, too. And as the younger boy continued to watch him, he saw something rather astounding; submittal.

At just twelve years old, Spencer Reid was often the one who experienced fear in social situations – of people, and all that they could and might do. He had never had someone actually be scared of _him._

But now, appraising this boy who looked almost as if a tall gust of wind could blow him over, this pipe-cleaner of a young man who gazed at him with something akin to disquiet, there was an odd flip in Reid's stomach.

This boy wasn't going to hurt him; for whatever reason, he looked faintly intimidated by _Reid,_ of all people. And, in a way that even a genius couldn't explain, that set Reid immensely at ease. Even though the older boy looked like he might be able to put up a hell of a fight, he wouldn't. He was scared, and . . . thus, Reid was safe.

 _Safe._

He offered a small smile to both guys in front of him. "Hey, Anderson."

Anderson barely had time to nod. "Reid, this is – "

"What's your name?" The other kid cut in, eyes still searching Reid for something.

More than a little uncomfortable by the gaze, it took Reid a second to gather his thoughts. "Uhm," he started. "I'm Reid – well, ah, Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"Spencer. A New-Testament name, meaning 'reserved.' _Unemotional_. Logical, scarred, shrewd and deductive." The boy's eyes glimmered, and he held out a hand. "I'm Tobias."

"Tobias . . . " Reid started, unsure of what to say.

"Non-Biblical. Moody. Shrouded, secretive . . . sinful." His voice had deepened, notes of pain and regret seeping into it, but the other boy still regarded Reid with a keen interest, something unreadable.

Reid didn't like not being able to read things.

Still, Tobias stared at him. "Hey," he started, taking a step forward.

And, although totally unprovoked, Reid took a frightened step back, compensating for the space between them, regarding the older boy apprehensively.

His retreat did not go unnoticed by Tobias, who frowned slightly, looking curious, almost hurt. "I've got a question to ask you, Spencer."

His tone was gentle, but hearing his name coming from this stranger who was giving him chills set only to put Reid further on-edge, and the genius tensed.

"I don't – " he started, only to interrupt himself with a gasp when a hand landed on his shoulder, and suddenly, Tobias was right in his face.

"A deal," the boy whispered, his breath warm and so close that it mingled with Reid's own. "I can help you, Spencer – "

"I d-don't _need_ any help," Reid cut in, his eyes searching desperately around for someone to intervene.

Anderson had a worried look on his face, and had taken a step closer. "Tobias, man, lay off – "

"All you have to do is trust me." The older boy leaned in closer still, and Reid cringed, jerking back –

– right into the solid mass that was Derek Morgan's torso. Reid glanced up at the warmth, and felt an instant wave of relief go through him at the familiar face.

Derek took one second to smile down at Reid reassuringly, before turning to face Tobias, his features instantly set in stone, cold and unforgiving.

"Step off, Hankel."

Though a small flash of fear crossed Tobais's face, he smothered it quickly, drowning the uncertainty in a mask of resolution and feigned confidence.

"I was only talking to the boy," he said, a chill in his voice.

"Right," Derek snorted disdainfully. " _Talk_. That's a great way to deal, right."

A look of pain marred Tobias's features. "You have no right – "

"No, man," Derek cut in so ferociously that Reid actually flinched in his arms, and the older boy took a brief second to squeeze comfortingly. " _You_ have no right. He's a kid, you sick fuck – just a _kid._ Nothing like you, and he doesn't want to be. So do all three of us a favor, and _back the hell off._ "

The last words were said in a snarl, and after a long moment of shrewdly staring at them both, Tobias finally took a step back, his hand sliding effortlessly off of Reid's shoulder as he did so.

"C'mon," Derek said, wasting no time as he swiveled the genius around with him, turning to stalk away.

Stumbling to keep up with the much bigger boy's strides, Reid had only a second to glance back at Tobias, who mouthed, "Later" at him before turning back to Anderson.

So very, very confused, Reid resigned himself to being dragged off – again – with Derek Morgan.

* * *

"What was that all about?"

Reid's voice was the first thing to shatter the silence in quite awhile, and Derek actually jerked in surprise, being yanked from his thoughts in a manner that was not altogether pleasant. He swiveled away from where he'd been staring at the rain, and turned to face the young genius.

"What?"

Reid's eyes never left his, gaze strong, even though his voice was tentative, mild. "I mean," he started, "why didn't you let me talk to Tobias?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Did you _want_ to talk to Tobias?"

"I – I didn't – he was . . ." Reid hesitated, and then looked up again, eyes boring intently into the older boy. "That wasn't what I said."

"Okay," Derek shrugged, clasping his hands together in front of him. "So what are you trying to say, kid?"

Reid paused. "Why don't you like Tobias?" he finally asked.

"Because the kid's got issues." Derek's answer was instantaneous. He growled as he spoke. "He ran away from home years ago, and was actually living under here before most of our crew came in. He doesn't talk to anyone, just rants religious stuff day in and out. And he tweaks – heroin, we think, but . . . " he trailed off, shrugging. "I just don't like someone like that around."

Reid searched Derek's face for awhile, trying to find something there. It was a long moment before he spoke, and his voice was quiet, barely audible over the still-roaring thunderstorm.

"Why did he run away?"

"I don't know," Derek admitted impassively. "Titchy shit with his dad and uncle Raphael, or something. Abuse – so he says."

" _So he says?"_ Though his voice was soft, the venom in Reid's words was unmistakable. Derek looked up, surprised.

But Reid didn't stop. _"So he says,"_ the young genius repeated once more, the acid more and more visible as his tone deepened to something beyond what a twelve-year-old would know. He took a step forward.

"You judge him for it." He gestured back blindly over his shoulder, in the general direction of Tobias Hankel. "He confides in you that he managed to escape from an abusive situation at home, and you _judge_ him for it."

"Hey, hey, now," Derek defended himself. "I _judge_ him for running away from a problem. Strong people know how to confront their issues. Only cowards run away."

Reid looked up at him pointedly. "You ran away."

Derek's eyes darkened, and when he spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous. "You're on thin ice, kid," he growled.

Looking somewhat startled but no less arduous, Reid gulped. "So it's okay for you to do because you've got some fancy-job that makes bank; but when someone manages to flee from a tormentor, you would condemn for not winding up as well-off as yourself?"

"Anyone strong enough can make something of themselves – "

"Oh, and that's just it, isn't it. It always comes down to strength. Those who can't overcome are _weak,_ and they deserve it."

Suddenly, Derek sensed they weren't really talking about Tobias anymore. "Kid, I didn't say that," he chided, reaching out a hand.

Reid deftly stepped back from his touch. "You don't have to _say._ And it's fine, really – a lot of people I know think just like that; survival of the fittest, social Darwinism, all of that." He glared up at Derek, but the power of his angry eyes was marred by the pulsing pain that Derek could see deep in the hazel depths.

"But what never occurs to you lot is that some of us – the _weak_ – survive by _not_ fighting." His lip quivered. "Not all of us are capable of bashing an enemy's head in – so, yes, we run, and we hide, and we take any chance we can to lick our wounds in private and face the world pretending we're _just fine_."

Derek watched as the kid spoke, how Reid went from puffed up and furious to simply looking kicked-down, tired; how his hands went from clenched fists to wrapping around his midsection protectively; how his voice changed from angry and passionate to meek, bitter.

"We take escape when it comes to us, Derek. Any chance of _not_ going through whatever our Hell happened to be is better than staying back and trying to muddle through it forever."

Reid's voice cracked, and it was a sign of just how far-gone he was that Derek was able to lay a hand on his shoulder without the younger boy wincing again.

"Reid." The genius looked up, eyes misty. "What happened to you?"

Immediately, Reid withdrew, shaking his head and casting his eyes elsewhere. "I . . . I . . ." He couldn't seem to find any words.

"It's none of your concern."

Derek looked down at him, appraising. "What's my concern are the things I _care_ about, Pretty Boy." Thinking for a moment, he added, "I care about _you."_

"You don't even _know_ me."

Derek shook his head. "Doesn't mean I don't care."

Reid swallowed tightly. "It's none of your business," he hissed, every defensive instinct telling him to hide.

But Derek didn't react the way the genius had been sure he would.

"You're right," the older boy shrugged, leaning casually against one of the graphitized walled. "It's not a lick of my business, and I've got no real right to know." His eyes probed Reid. "But that's why I'm a good person to talk to, kid. None of this affects me, I presume; nothing would stop me from just walking away from here as soon as you're done . . . D'you get me?"

And really, Reid did. Derek was right, he had no part of everything that had gone wrong with Reid's day – here he was, just a stranger with whom the genius would part ways soon enough with him. In the meantime, here they sat; someone who needed to vent, and someone else who had just offered up his shoulder – nothing more, nothing less.

Reid looked Derek straight in the eye, and nodded. "Okay." His voice squeaked slightly, and Reid coughed, clearing his throat. "Okay, fine."

Derek nodded. "Tell me," he guided gently, his entire figure unimposing, his tone soothing.

Reid stared at the floor, his words barely audible.

"Her name . . . her name is Alexa Lisbon. She's . . ." he gulped, "She's easily the prettiest girl in our whole school. A sophomore, so . . . so not as old as some of the other cheerleaders. Like me with the seniors. I thought we might have that in common." He looked up, eyes shining. "Earlier today, her best friend came up to me in the library – Harper Hillman, I-I tutor her sometimes. S-She told me that Alexa wanted to m-meet me out on the football field, behind the crow's nest. Said she had a surprise for me. She leaned in so close, and she g-got all w-whispery and so _nice_ , I-I . . . I . . ."

"Kid," Derek spoke softly, heart already wrenching. "It's totally normal to be distracted by a pretty girl."

"I know that," Reid nodded slowly. "But I shouldn't have been. Harper isn't even the one I . . . liked. I should have been on my guard, not been so stupid . . ." He looked up, meeting Derek's eyes. "I'm not the most popular kid in my school. In fact, I daresay I'm the most loathed."

Derek frowned. "You don't seem so bad to me."

Reid actually rolled his eyes at that. "Neither do you, Derek, but think; I'm twelve years old, and a senior, the valedictorian of our class. When your weight is significantly under that of a normal prepubescent boy, and you can read every textbook in 23 minutes and remember it word for word . . ." he shrugged. "Things can get out of hand, sometimes."

Now Derek was getting worried. "What happened?"

"I, ah . . . I went out to the football field – t-to meet Alexa, I mean. As s-soon as she saw me, she s-smiled, and came up and kissed me." Reid ran a finger absently over his lips, as though still feeling it. "And I . . . I thought that things were going to get better, that – that, you know . . . she liked me."

"Did she?" Derek asked, already knowing the answer.

Reid shook his head, the angle actually making it quite difficult to see the tears misting up in his eyes. "No. As soon as she backed away, she said something – I couldn't even hear, I was so – so . . ." he just flourished his hands, unable to find the words."The entire football team came out. All of them. They . . . they j-jumped me, and h-held me down while they took my clothes, and then t-they . . ."

Derek took a step closer to Spencer, seeing the boy's distress, knowing something big was coming.

Reid unconsciously flinched back at the proximity, too lost in his memory to recognize that Derek was a friend, and not foe.

"They tied me up, n-naked, to the football goalpost, and kept attacking me until I was b-begging them to stop." A tear carved its path down the trembling genius's cheek. "After awhile, Al-lexa told them it was time f-for d-dinner, and they j-just _left_ me there." He sounded broken, almost wondrous of how cruel kids could be.

* * *

Derek thought he might punch something. Or someone.

Like, say, every single one of those little _shits_ who had decided that with nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon, it would be okay to okay to attack a _kid_ in such a sadistic manner.

But, still he had to know. "Did someone come back and help you, kid?"

Reid shook his head miserably. "No. After awhile, the rain started . . . I was able to slip out of the rope they used when it got wet enough. I went home, and just . . . I just couldn't stand the thought of having to see them all on Monday, smiling and snickering, laughing and pointing, not ashamed but _proud_ about what they did, so I . . . I thought I'd l-leave."

"You just up and packed your bags and ran for the city limits?" The kid nodded, not making eye-contact. "Didn't you think your parents would worry about you?"

That yielded a bitter laugh that made Derek's blood run cold. "My dad hasn't even seen me for two years, I doubt he concerns himself with something as trivial as bullying. And my mom . . . has her own problems. She's busy."

"Too busy to look after her own son?"

Reid growled instantly on the defensive again. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, you've said as much," Derek muttered. "But, kid, the thing is . . . sometimes someone else can take care of you, too. It's not a bad thing."

"I never said it was," Reid snapped. "The fact is, _Derek_ , I've long since gotten used to being my own keeper – and my mother's, when she allows it. I don't need other people interfering in our lives, messing with them!"

Derek held up his hands in an appeasing gesture. "I don't want to mess with you, Pretty Boy, I – "

"Will you please," Spencer interrupted, his voice low with control, tight and dangerous, " _stop calling me that._ "

It wasn't a question. Derek didn't know what to say.

The kid didn't seem like those overly-sensitive types, honestly. He gave more the impression that he liked to keep things close to the belt – something Derek could understand, if appreciate. He himself was much the same way.

Which was how Derek knew that the only thing he could really do right then was back the hell _off_. The kid was agitated, he was scared, and, despite all of their efforts to be friendly, he was _alone_. Upsetting him right then would help no one, and only serve to make a long day even longer.

So, Derek pushed down the words he'd been about to say, and took a step back from the kid, marveling silently at the way the figure visibly relaxed as soon as he wasn't so close. Some of the color went back into Reid's face, and his shoulders no longer strained with tension over his crossed arms.

Derek blew out a breath of air through his nose, and leaned back against the smooth cement of the bridge's wall. He could feel Reid watching him, but let his gaze drift out into the cloudy, stormy evening, and the fat rain droplets that were falling only inches from them.

For a long time, the only sound was that of splashing water, of rolls of thunder and the whistling of the wind. No one spoke, their thoughts running through their minds like the tornado that the weather systems in all the houses that had TVs and radios were going off about.

Derek sighed. "It's a damn cold night."

Reid turned slightly, not having expecting the older boy to have spoken again so soon, if at all. He nodded. "Yeah."

Derek squinted suddenly, peering out into the icy sheets of rain. "Kid," he said slowly, cautiously. "Kid, do you see something out there?"

Reid followed the direction of Derek's sight, gazing into the darkness. He shook his head, peering back at his companion. "I don't think so."

Derek didn't hesitate. "Well, I _do,_ " he said, pushing off of the wall and taking step out into the storm. "Right there," he gestured, pointing somewhere off to the left of themselves.

Now, when Reid leaned forward and really strained his eyes, he could almost make out something that didn't quite . . . belong. Something between all the pellets of falling water that seemed too solid to be just another plant blowing by.

In fact, if he tilted his head right, it almost looked like . . .

"Emily! Elle!" Derek's voice was loud, potent with a combination of relief and excitement. He immediately jumped off of the small rock on which he had been balancing and shot off into the night towards the other people.

Reid stood behind, staring as the older boy ran like an excited dog, his mouth agape.

 _What?_

* * *

Though no more than a few minutes could have passed, Reid was thoroughly shivering by the time Derek emerged from the rain once more, a goofy grin on his face and each arm wrapped around a different – though equally beautiful – brunette.

Reid stepped back instinctually, his body seizing up slightly as he took in the new additions to their myriad group of two, keenly searching for any sign of danger or malcontent.

The girl on the left was shorter than Derek, but only just. Long wings of raven-black hair were cut and styled messily across her smooth skin, and even through the wetness caused by the rain, Reid could see the heavy eye makeup and lipstick she had presumably been wearing earlier. Donned in equally stifling clothes – black pants, black cami, black combat boots, black fingerless gloves, and black jewelry – the girl looked like she should be uncomfortable, or at least hot. But instead, she looked completely at ease, grinning mischievously at Reid while gently squeezing Derek's waist with one red-nailed hand, the only sign of her temperament the bruise-like bags beneath her brown eyes.

The girl Derek was holding in his right hand seemed, by contrast, quite a bit more intimidating. Obviously Hispanic, her narrow nose and canted eyes gave her a very exotic look, one that might have been pretty if her mouth hadn't been turned down in a frown at the same time. Everything about the girl seemed sharp – from her angular curves to the kink in her brown hair, nothing was relaxed, and it made Reid nervous to see her aggressive stance.

As if sensing his thoughts, the girl turned her eyes toward him, expression hard as she looked over the boy looking her over. She sneered, and Reid winced back from the expression.

Derek seemed to notice the tense silence, and he never faltered; beaming easily, he said, "Reid – sorry about leaving ya, kid. I couldn't have my two best girls getting lost, though, could I?"

" _Your_ girls?" The black-haired girl snorted. "Please, Morgan, if your head were any fuller of itself, it would explode." She turned back to Reid, and extended a long, elegant hand. "I'm Emily – no nicknames, or I'll twist your arm. And that's Elle." She bobbed her head toward the other, less-friendly-looking brunette still glaring at Reid, and Emily laughed to see it.

"She's the friendly one, as you can see."

Reid flashed a concerned expression. "She doesn't look like – "

"It's a joke, kid," Derek cut in, sensing the impending disaster from the look on Elle's face. "He's not much for sarcasm," Derek explained to Emily, who shot him a questioning expression.

She nodded. "Trade ya; Elle's got it in spades today."

Derek frowned. "Trouble with Gideon."

"Who else?" Emily sighed. "He said she was roaming the streets _questionably_ , and new policy 'mandated' he bring her in."

"Questionably?" Now Reid was confused.

"He means I look like a prostitute," Elle spat out, speaking for the first time that evening. Her voice was quite, deep, and hoarse; very exotic, very tough.

Reid wasn't sure what to make of it.

Nor of her outfit. To him, Elle looked like she was wearing the same clothes that most of the girls in his school wore; a denim skirt, tank-top, Converse sneakers, and an armload of bangles.

Okay, maybe everything was a little tighter or shorter than what his school would have allowed, and maybe her makeup was looking a little heavier than her skinny frame could hold, but it was surely nothing that made her look like a prostitute!

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Elle drawled, glaring at Reid as he looked her up and down.

Immediately, the young genius flushed.

"I – I, ah – uhm – "

Derek clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Chill, man. Elle's just upset because there's this two-foot stick she's got stuck up her ass."

"Screw you, Morgan."

"If you insist," Derek fired right back.

That, at least, got a minimal smile from the girl. Not missing a beat, Emily wrapped her arm tightly around her friend's. "Let's get you some grub, girl," she plied, tugging Elle's arm. "Garcia promised to bring something good tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," Elle grumbled as the two of them walked off, arm-in arm. Just before disappearing into the darkness, Elle turned back and called over her shoulder.

"Don't get too wet, _papi_. And keep the cute one safe."

The echoes of her voice rang over them as Derek grinned at Reid's flaming cheeks, draping an arm over the kid's shoulders and ruffling his hair.  
"Let's go find you someplace to sleep, Pretty Boy."

Huddled together closely, they too walked back under the bridge.


	6. No One Likes To Be Alone

**Author's Note:** I am so, SO incredibly sorry for the longer wait than usual for a chapter. My next semester of college just started, and I made the tragic mistake of taking three of my hardest classes in one session (in my defense, I planned it out a few years ago, and it seemed brilliant at the time; get all of the worst classes out of the way, hooray!).

As it turns out, for my restaurant management class, I got the very first week of management. The first m-effing-week. Which means, unfortunately, the next 15 days or so are going to be killer for me, because I have to scout locations, plan and cost a menu, hire temporary service . . . Basically, I'm opening a restaurant without going all the way to opening it. Point is, I'm going to be swamped for a little bit, and I can't promise to make my usual weekly posting. I'mma try, though . . . I really do love this piece. And it warms my heart that so many of you do, too.

Rant over.

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _MW3Addict: And here I was, worrying that my chapters were winding up out-of-control long! I'm so glad you enjoy the length — I've a tendency to post shorter tics with longer updates . . . I just get on a writing rage, and wind up wrapping the story within 10-15 chapters. But if you're happy, I'm happy. More long updates coming soon!_

 _Sue1313: I do so like your colloquialisms! And yeah, Tobias is going to be a slight hinderance to Reid in this story (*echem* BELOW!), but really, could you see him as anything else when it comes to Spencer? Those two were made to aggravate one another. And as much as I like the idea of Morgan and Anderson protecting our dear baby genius, someone else kind of butted in and placed themselves as the hero, instead . . . I still hope you enjoy it, though!_

 _Hippiechic81: All is forgiven, i've done that myself a fair few times when reading late at night. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the story, even if JJ and Rossi aren't at the forefront of my cast players._

 _rose and 10: Tobias terrifies me sometimes, but I ship him and Reid so hard that I just can't resist referencing him in everything I do . . . They're both so messed up, I find it just delicious. And yeah, he's going to be a bit of a proverbial thorn in the paw in this story, but his part'll be over soon enough. Forgive me!_

 _Annber03: It makes me giggle that someone else really thinks that Emily and Elle missed out on meeting one another in the show. I mean, they would have been cats with their claws out, but who wouldn't have loved that? I love fics where they're friends . . . kind of inspired me to make this pairing, honestly. And i'm so glad you found Reid's reactions to all three her, Emily, and Tobias so reasonable! I get nervous writing my characters as kids, like I've told you before, but knowing they seem believable means a great deal to me. I just want them to work out, however that might be, in this case. And yeah, I ship Reid and Tobias far too much for them not to be drawn to one another, despite their separate and equal instabilities. Even if it's entirely fucked up, I want them to interact all the time. Not sure how many more special appearances our favorite Geogian is going to make, but he's definitely got his own part to play in this drama._

 _As always, your review made me feel so valued and validated. I really dig that something I write can affect someone as personally as you say it does you, and I wanted to thank you again for always being there for me with all of my stories. Love ya, girl, in my own way. *Smiles*_

 _RissaGrace17: Thank you so, SO much for saying that! I always wished Emily and Elle could have gotten to know one another in the series at all, so I might have taken some liberties with their entrances . . . but we'll be playing with them some more in this and future chapters. Can't help myself, I've fallen in love with their teenage selves. And I really appreciate your compliment; wonderful people such as yourself are the reason I love writing._

 _Kas3y: LOLz, I was already intending to add some more angst anyways, but just because you're so excited, I went a little crazy with the Tobias/Reid interactions in this chapter . . . I'm so glad someone else is as into this as I've been getting . . . makes me feel slightly less terrible for being so evil to my baby genius. I'm sorry I made you cry, though . . . Can't say it won't happen again, but I'll try to poke some happiness in this fic again . . . at some point . . . I think. *Smiles* SO glad to have your commentary, it always amuses me greatly_

 _DarkJediQueen: I'm no silverwrym or gothina236, but I THRIVE on the creepy myself. And I find Tobias, while tremendously sad and disturbing, one of the best antagonists in Criminal Minds, if not ever. Didn't want to squick you out, but he just HAD to be like this, in my mind . . . Odd how we treat the people we love, non? I'm glad you're looking forward to more, though; look no further. Angst ahoy, for now — we've still got some time until the end of this little vignette. Glad for your readership, as always!_

 _silverwrym: Your review made me laugh — as if you're one to talk about making Tobias a centerpiece, missy! I've READ your work, remember? *Grins* But of course, he had to be in there, I simply love him and Spencer too much not to put it in there . . . along with the famous 'goalpost incident,' non? I think I reference those key events in nearly all of my stories somehow . . . might be a problem for a therapist someday. In the meantime, though, I'll keep up with this, of course. And yeah, like I've said before, Elle is a bit of a twat in my mind . . . I'm sure she was just a delight as a teenager *cough, cough.* But somehow, when I tried to cast Emily in her role, that b*** just kept shoving her way back in, saying, "No, guys, I GOT THIS." So . . . she'll have a slightly bigger role than originally intended, as you'll see below. Her soft spot for Reid . . . Well, I don't care for her, but I kind of enjoy Spelle shipping, so there's going to be minor feels at some point, LOLz. I just hope you continue to enjoy the proverbial show here. I always enjoy hearing your opinions so much!_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

 _No One Likes To Be Alone_

* * *

Reid jolted up, heart slamming and eyes blinking wide in panic as he breathed heavily, looking around for any sign of danger.

Though darkness was all that surrounded him, the faint light seeping into the tent made it just possible for the young genius to make out the sleeping form of Derek Morgan to the left of him, chest still rising and falling slowly in a blissful slumber.

Reid glared silently for a moment, envy nearly overcoming him, before sighing to himself and pushing back the nubby blanket that – for the third time that evening – he had tossed and turned into a literal knot. It wasn't Derek's fault that he couldn't sleep.

After all, what kind of twelve-year-old was still afraid of the dark?

When Derek had informed Reid that they would have to sleep in the same tent, he had been wary enough. To have to reveal back this boy he was just barely beginning to like and look up to that things that went bump in the night made him shake and shriek would have been far too much, far too soon. So instead, Reid had bit his tongue and nodded, not saying a word as Derek zippered their camping piece shut, or as he had tossed Reid something to sleep in or even as the older boy had flickered off the small flashlight by his side, effectively snuffing out any chance of Reid getting some sleep that evening.

Still, it was only his third nightmare, and judging by the level at which he was unable to see things, Reid presumed that it was still very, very late at night.

 _More like early in the morning_ , the genius reminded himself as he mashed his pillow back into shape, and ground his head into it.

Nothing.

And nothing.

And _nothing . . ._

His inner clock told him that only a few minutes could have passed when again Reid shot up, thinking he'd heard a noise from outside the tent. Several tense seconds passed, and the young genius waited with bated breath . . .

. . . only to roll his eyes when a few leaves blew by, their silhouettes vaguely visible through the pale moonlight.

Restive from his jitteriness, Reid shook the tangled curls out of his face, and quietly disentangled himself from the mess of blankets. He had found from entirely too much experience that a short walk to clear his head would aid in his sleep more than any pill or counting of sheep.

Carefully, and quietly, so as not to disturb the slumbering Derek, Reid whispered out of the tent, mismatched socks padding his footsteps so that it was easy to slip into the night without making a sound.

Out in the early-morning air, the young boy shivered. Reid knew that it was proven that hot deserts had the coldest temperatures at night, and normally he planned accordingly to cover his skinny frame.

Of course, normally, Spencer Reid would be sleeping in his own bed right now.

He sighed, noting how the sound was lost in the faint breeze, and looked around.

To his left, several dozen feet away, was the edge of the bridge, and Reid could see that sleet was still falling in thick curtains all over the ground, turning the dry Nevada dirt into coarse red mud. He frowned at the idea of such a mess, and turned away.

On his right stretched out an expanse of darkness, interrupted here and there by the luminescent patches of color that were other tents filled with other people doing other things.

For a moment Reid gazed over them, wondering about other people. Envious, really. This place was . . . not perfect, not ideal, really, but . . .

. . . But it was _nice_. Nicer than a school where kicks and taunts and harsh words and shoves had long ago become the norm. Nicer than a home where his father had easily packed up and his mother had a hard time remembering her name. Nicer, really, than almost anywhere Spencer had ever been before.

Nicer than his life.

Reid heard footsteps behind him, and braced himself for a lecture of some sort from Derek for wandering around on his own at this hour. As if he were a child.

But it wasn't the warm, familiar voice of Derek Morgan that ensconced Spencer Reid as he stood, huddled and shivering in the chilly, dark air.  
"Come with me."

 _Tobias._

* * *

Over the faint flickering of the fire, Reid watched the older boy as he sat down, the minimal light giving his already exhausted-looking features an almost haunted look.

Tobias either didn't notice the scrutiny, or he didn't care; fumbling with something Reid couldn't quite see, it was a moment before he straightened, clutching a tightly-rolled blanket in his arms. He tossed this to Reid – who, in a moment of unseen physicality, actually managed to catch the thing.

"Thank you," Reid mumbled, his surprise ebbing away as quickly as it had come He unrolled the fabric, gratefully covering his shivering shoulders.

Tobias nodded, and, grabbing another quilt for himself, sat down opposite the fire with a small sigh.

The unease that had flooded Reid earlier at meeting the boy was lessened, but was, unfortunately, still there. He stared past the flames, watching as Tobias reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ball of twine. Seeming totally entranced, the older boy began unraveling the frayed string, fiddling with knots and twisting it around his fingers.

Reid observed the behavior for a few silent minutes, thinking about everything that had happened over this very, _very_ long day, when words spoken from across the fire startle him from his lurid thoughts.

"You're sad, Spencer."

Jolting, Reid looked up, only to be met with an acute stare from the boy on the other side of the flames. He blinked.

"What?"

"You're not happy." Tobias tilted his head. "Why is that?"  
Reid stiffened immediately under the scrutiny. Always a private person, this kind of introspection immediately put the boy on the defensive.

"I never said I wasn't happy."

Tobias shrugged. "You don't have to _say_ it."

Reid swallowed, his voice tight. "Happiness . . . happiness is all relative. I'm fine."

Tobias stared at him balefully. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Lying's a sin."

"I'm not a liar."

Tobias raised his eyes slightly, that penetrating gaze never faltering. "We all are."

Now Reid was confused. "Liars?"

Tobias shook his head. "Sinners. Everyone sineth or hath sinned, and will pay for it in their death such as their life was lived." He gazed into the flames, the orange tongues of fire giving his eyes an almost softly look. "My father says that."

"Your father doesn't see the good in people," Reid assumed, a rush of sympathy flooding him.

No one around this place seemed to have any luck in the paternal department.

"There is seldom good in people," Tobias spoke in an undertone. He scratched the crook of his right arm, and Reid glanced sharply, remembering what Derek had said earlier.

 _Heroin?_

Though it unsettled him, Reid got up, and walked the short distance between him and the other boy, sitting down next to Tobias and draping a corner of his blanket over him. Unconsciously, Tobias's shoulder relaxed slightly at the gentle movements, and he glanced over at Reid.

Gulping, the genius took a moment to speak. "All people have good in them," he whispered, voice barely audible with the thunderstorm still bearing down behind them.

Tobias shook his head. "All people have bad in them."

"Well," Reid admitted, "maybe that, too. No one's perfect. But, deep down, besides all of our obvious flaws, people are inherently kind, and caring. Moral, ethical . . ." He blew out a breath of air, thoughts skirting over those kids who had tied him to a football field earlier today.

Reid blinked. "People _are_ good," he said tremulously, refusing to think otherwise. It was too terrifying for him to contemplate. He looked up, eyes hooded, to see Tobias scrutinizing him, an unreadable expression written on his face.

The younger boy stiffened, nervous. "What?"

Tobias shook his head. "You're different," he said, a faint trace of wonder lacing his voice.

Reid gulped. "Everyone's _different."_

"No," Tobias insisted. "You're _different._ Special. Not like the other heathens. You're . . . you're almost _pure._ "

His tone was becoming fanatical, and Reid surreptitiously glanced around, seeing if anyone was nearby to help; but when the cavern appeared as empty as it had been before, he turned back to Tobias, who was still speaking.

"– You can be _saved._ "

"I – I don't need saving." Reid stiffened immediately under the probing gaze.

Tobias brushed off his words. "Everyone needs it, Spencer – but _you_ deserve it." And then, quick as a flash, his arm shot out, finger encircling themselves tightly around Reid's wrist. The taste of real panic beginning to flood his throat, Reid jerked back wildly, trying to get free.

But the grip on his skin tightened minutely, a clear warning, and the frantic boy froze as Tobias, still staring straight into his eyes, reached deep into his coat pockets, searching.

"I can help you escape, give you freedom. I can take you by the hand – take you somewhere new – " Tobias cut himself off as he pulled his clenched fist out, and opened it to reveal something that made Reid's heart twist.

A needle.

"What are you doing?" His voice was high, taut with tension.

Not responding, Tobias moved closer, their breaths mingling as he held the needle between his teeth, using his free hand to begin pulling up Reid's shirtsleeve.

"N-no," he whispered frantically, pulse so rapid it felt like a hum. "No, please. Please, I don't want it." He struggled to pull away.

The older boy tilted his head. "It helps," he recited blankly, almost mechanically.

"No," Reid inhaled, sucking in his chest as much as possible, as if making himself a smaller target would alleviate the situation. "Please don't do this."

"God will forgive you," Tobias reassured him, smiling minimally as he gripped the needle and began to aim for an injection site on the genius's arm.

Reid bit his lip, barely holding back a whimper. As if it was _God_ he was concerned about, when he was alone and trapped under a bridge full of homeless strangers, and was in the present company of one such individual who was trying to shoot him up with _heroin._

He would have laughed, if there had been any feeling left in him other than the tense apprehension, and the mind-numbing, paralyzing _fear_.

As it was, he could feel the locking in his throat, and knew his voice was gone. It always happened in stressful situations; Spencer's vocal chords just tensed and froze, and he couldn't make a squeak if his life depended on it.

The stretched feeling in his esophagus told him that no sound would be coming from his lips, and Reid realized that it was impossible to call for help. Completely paralyzed, he had no choice but to attempt to pull himself away, nearly bursting into tears when Tobias's grip merely strengthened, a ravage sort of fire in his brown eyes.

Seeming to have found what he was looking for, Tobias raised his eyes briefly to meet Reid's. "It won't hurt," he promised earnestly.

His calm voice was a complete contradiction to the panic roaring in Reid's chest, and the younger boy clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to brace himself for the inevitable.

"HEY!"

Both boys flinched, Reid jerking so hard that he stumbled on his feet, only the iron-clad fingers of Tobias keeping him from landing on the ground. They turned in unison, eyes equally wild, to see who had come to their confab.

Elle Greenaway, though still looking as beautiful as she had earlier that evening, had obviously just been woken up; her seamless makeup had faded and cracked, her previously smooth hair was kinked in wild, frizzy curls, and though still sharp and flashing, her eyes bore the look of someone who had just been yanked from a very unpleasant dream.

None of these seemed to have any impact on the terrifying brunette as she marched over to them, fury making every step twice as hard, three times faster.

"Let him go, Hankel." She spoke each word as a separate command, and even though the look on her face chilled Reid to his very bones, he felt a wave of relief rush through him that someone was _here,_ that someone had come to _help._

For once, he wasn't dealing with everything on his own.

However, instead of freeing him, Tobias's finger on his arms merely strengthened their hold.

"I'm not hurting him," he insisted, dragging Reid and himself both a step back from the vicious girl.

"I think _he_ would disagree," Elle spat out, stepping closer, rapidly closing the waning space between her and the other two. In one fluid motion, she was pinching the skin of Tobias's wrists, the look in her eyes hard and cold. Unforgiving.

"You can't – "

"I will give you one chance," she hissed over the older boy's words. Tobias flinched back from the audible venom in Elle's voice.

"You will drop that _fucking_ needle, let go of the kid's arm, take a step back, turn around, and walk away without another sound." She took a breath in, chest heaving with each word.

" _Or,"_ Elle continued after a moment, "I will lay your ass out flat on the ground. And then, when you're choking on your own blood and trying to stay conscious, I will march straight back out into the rain, find Jason Gideon, and report the location of a certain mechanic's missing son, nice and sweet as can be."

She stared into Tobias's eyes, fierce gaze leveling him to the ground. "You'll be back with daddy dearest before the sun ever rises.

Reid couldn't see anything at his odd angle, half turned into Tobias's chest, but he could feel the tremble going through the other boy where their bodies touched.

There was a moment of painstaking silence, and as Elle took a step closer, fists clenched and apparently tired of waiting, Tobias jolted.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, holding up his free hand. Quivering only slightly, he let his fingers go limp, and dropped the loaded syringe from his fingers. At the same time, his grip on Reid's arm slackened at last, and the shaken genius stumbled away, hand shooting up to his collarbone, taking in his rapid pulse and unsteady breathing. Turning around, he was confronted again by that calculating, longing, _hungry_ look in Tobias's eyes, and he nearly felt sick.

Reid backed up until he hit something solid, and turned his neck slightly, craning to see that he had run straight into Elle.

Her eyes flashed to him for a fraction of a second, and he froze, but Elle immediately re-focused on her opponent.

Tobias took a tentative step forward, opening his mouth as if to call out after his lost quarry, but was stopped by the flat, smacking sound of one nail-painted hand slamming into his chest, halting him completely.

Elle raised a clenched fist, looking ready to strike again. "Leave," she hissed, " _now."_

Her clenched teeth made the words hard to understand, but the ferocity in her tone and posture meant Tobias didn't need to be told twice. Casting a wistful glance at Reid, the older boy raised both of his hands in a peaceful gesture, and backed up until the darkness swallowed him.

Minutes passed. Slowly, the sound of rain returned to the background, and the fire's heat began to fade.

Reid was still backed closely into Elle's chest, and as he could feel her breathing steady, so did his own. A hand came up and brushed past the locks of his hair, resting on his shoulder, and Reid tensed very slightly, expectant.

"You hurt, kid?" Though said in low, gentle tones, the voice of Elle was still a gruff one.

Though he _was_ calmer, Reid shook his head to answer her question. His throat was still stiff, and it felt like if he tried to speak words, he would choke on them.

And somehow, Elle seemed to get that.

She sighed. "Come with me."

And then, abruptly, the girl turned on her heel and swiftly began to walk away, leaving Reid both curious and grateful to the fact that she hadn't dragged him with her, as everyone else had this evening – this _day_ , really.

Left in wonderment, Spencer almost lost sight of the brunette as she stalked away from the fire, and it was only because of all of his experience running that he managed to scramble up beside her.

Elle looked down, and gave him the first smile he'd seen on her all day.

It looked nice.

* * *

"Do you like coffee?"

Elle's back was turned to him, so she couldn't see Reid shake his head. He could feel the tightness in his chest just barely beginning to slacken, and his breathing had slowed to almost-normal – and with the return of a steady heartbeat, he knew he would also soon have his voice again, too.

Unfortunately, not being privy to any of this, Elle simply heard silence at the end of her question, and she turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"Yo, kid," she snapped, "I asked you a question."

The sudden return of the sharp edge in her voice had Reid flinching back, and biting his lip so hard that the blood pooled beneath it, he shook his head frantically, looking anywhere else.

Elle sighed. The tense line in she shoulder slackened, and she turned more towards Reid, but didn't move any closer.

"Lookit . . . Reid," she started off quietly, the venom in her voice gone as quickly as it had come. "I didn't mean to . . . you just . . ."

The girl babbled for a moment, and then rolled her eyes, and turned back around. "Do you want some coffee?"

Reid swallowed tightly, and breathed out. "N-no," he whispered, thankful for the single syllable, even if it came out sounding clotted and choked.

Elle glanced over her shoulder, taking in his huddled form and darting eyes. "Have you ever _had_ coffee, kid?"

Staring at the ground, Reid nodded.

One corner of Elle's mouth quirked up. "And you didn't like it?" She tsk'ed, shaking her head. "Someone messed up your order, kid. Lemme make you some _good_ brew."

She didn't see Reid's dispirited nod as she bent over, fiddling with something in her bag. Reid took the moment to look at the space around him.

Elle had led the two of them back to what he presumed was her own tent; older and larger than the tent he and Derek had been sleeping in, this particular lodging was also more worn-in, and clearly of a higher quality; Reid would guess army-issue, if he had to.

The inside was bare, almost impersonal; a battery-powered tactical flashlight provided the only reprieve from the darkness, and the only furniture was a blanket and some pillows were stacked messily in one corner, right by two trash bags that Reid could only assume were filled with clothes. He was sitting on top of a small trunk padlocked shut, and Elle had made her seat on top of a large, expensive-looking stationary box. A cooler, which the brunette was currently rifling though, sat next to a flip-style cell-phone and few rubber bands.

Reid stared curiously at these until something bumped against his hand, and he looked up to see Elle towering over him, a Styrofoam cup clutched in her hand, and a smile that looked more like a grimace on her face.

"Try this," she said almost gently, handing Reid the cup.

The genius took the offered beverage, and, that kind look bearing down on him, took a hesitant sip.

The coffee was tepid, and runny. Not very strong. And he winced at the stale texture.

But it _was_ sweet, just warm enough to settle the chill that had been in Reid's bones since this evening – morning? – had began.

Feeling Elle's questioning gaze on him still, Reid pulled his lips away, and nodded minutely, eyes flashing to her for just a second. "Thank you," he whispered.

Elle shook her head. "No problem, kiddo," she replied, easing back onto her stationary box.

The two of them lapsed into a period of not-speaking, and the thunder became the only sound, rolling in the background. Reid continued to sip his coffee, liking it more as the wateriness faded on his tongue, and tried to ignore the fact that Elle hadn't stopped staring at him since they'd gotten in here.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when she broke the silence suddenly. "Did he hurt you?"

Reid glanced up, taken aback by the almost motherly expression on the girl's face. Still, he played dumb, so very much not wanting to talk about this. "What?"

Elle rolled her eyes, huffing out a quick breath. "Tobias – from earlier. Did . . . Did he hurt you?"

Reid studied her face, the earnest set of her lovely features, the sharp flash of intelligence in her eyes. "I . . ."

He didn't know what to say.

Elle watched him, holding his eyes so intently that he almost didn't hear her next words.

"Reid, _please?"_

The young boy gulped, forcing himself not to chew his lip again, to not show the turmoil inside. And, finally, he shook his head.

"No. He . . . he scared me. A lot, but . . ." Reid shook his head again. "No. Tobias didn't hurt me."

His admission seemed to send a wave of relief through Elle, and Reid watched as the brunette's body visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping down and her hands unclenching in her lap.

For another moment, they stared at one another, and then Reid turned away, edgy.

"He's a good person, you know."

"Hm?" Reid looked up. It shocked him to see the nervous, almost girlish look on Elle's face; she had wrapped her arms comfortingly around her midsection, and was chewing on her lower lip, the same way she was no doubt chewing on her thoughts before she spoke again.

"Tobias," she started. "He – " she stopped, thinking. "I mean, it's – " she cut herself off again, huffing a little sigh of frustration and tapping her fingers anxiously on her arm.

"He's a _good_ person," she spit out, looking tenser still. "He doesn't . . . He's not the brightest kid. And he's got _no_ sense of boundaries, and his home life is fucked up to Timbuktu, but . . ." She shrugged.

"Tobias _is_ good at heart. Deep down."

Reid watched her shift in her seat. "I believe that all people are inherently good," he whispered.

Elle tilted her head, squinting at him. "You're . . . different."

Reid snorted. "So I've been told." He lowered his coffee cup, and glanced around the tent, carefully looking anywhere other than Elle's eyes.

"Thank you for saving me."

"Some people need to be saved a little bit." Her tone was so gentle . . .

Rid pursed his lips. "Tobias . . ." His voice cracked, and he flushed. "Tobias said _he_ was trying to – t-trying to s-save me."

"Save?"

"H-heroin, I think. He was . . . I mean, he t-tried – " The tears streaming down Reid's face were enough to interrupt himself. He barely even felt the clement hand patting his shoulder, the soothing voice in his ear, whispering kind things.

The thunder rolled in the background several times before Reid sniffled, forcing his feelings back and placing a mask of calm over his face – although his hazel orbs still shone with a dimmed fire, and faint tremor of shock and preyed fright.

"I don't think I . . . I'm not sure I would have survived it."

His blunt words stunned her, and Elle studied the genius as he sat up, something sad in her dark eyes. When she spoke, it was with a horrible, reluctant familiarity.

"Sometimes, kid . . . sometimes people get caught up in some shit that they can't stop." She sighed. "No matter what they try, no matter how fucking much they hate every second of every minute of every day of every bit of what they're doing, they just can't . . ." she gestured wildly in the air, encompassing the entire room in a single motion.

"They can't stop it," Reid finished the thought for her.

"Yeah," Elle nodded, eyes cloudy as she stared off at some unseen thing in the distance. "Yeah . . ."

Reid stared at Elle, trying to riddle the girl out. From the moment he'd first met her – admittedly, just hours earlier – the Hispanic beauty had seemed strong, bold. Intimidating, really.

But here she sat before him, just a girl no more than a few years his senior, swapping sweet beverages and tears with some boy she barely knew.

He shook his head, utterly perplexed by the vying, almost fighting, parts of her personality. Elle was such a puzzle.

Everyone down here was.

"Can I . . . can I ask you something, Elle?"

Reid's voice was hushed, but the girl still jolted, startled from whatever deep thoughts had brought that morose look to her face. She turned to Reid, mask already impeccably back in place, just like his.

"What's up, kid?"

"You . . ." Reid was unsure of just exactly how to start.

"Hmm?"

"You, uh . . . you didn't talk to anyone but Derek and Emily tonight. And, you know – your tent is so far out from the rest of the group. You seem kinda . . . lonely."

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "I didn't hear a question anywhere in there."

Reid bit his lip, nervous. " . . . Why are you by yourself?"

 _Why are you helping me?_

 _Why is no one else here with you?_

 _Why?_

For a moment, he was sure that he'd made a mistake, flinching at the dark look on her shrewd face. Elle's glare was almost as terrifying as the rest of the kids he went to school with.

Seeing his apprehension, Elle immediately softened, benevolence seeping into her sharp features. Her hand slid off of his shoulder, and she again encircled herself in her own embrace, comforting.

" _They,_ " she spat out, a curious mixture of remorse and disgust in her voice, "don't really care for the way I choose to make my life down here."

Reid watched her, eyes shining in the darkness. " . . . What is that?"

"The world's oldest profession." A faint smile tugged at Elle's lips for just a moment before she saw the confusion on the young genius's face, and sighed.

"I'm a hooker, kid."

Reid just stared.

Elle raised an eyebrow, and, when he didn't say anything for a moment, she tried again. "You know? Like, a prostitute?"

Still no response.

"A walker?" The brunette shot out. "Sweet street treat? Meat-locker? Common-gutter-rat? Bourbon-Street whore – "

"I know what a _hooker_ is," the boy said quietly, interrupting.

Elle's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, boy."

"What?"

He seemed genuinely confused. But Elle still spat out the next words as if they burned her mouth to say.

"I've had that _holier-than-thou_ bullshit from a lot of people in my life, kid. My mother, my teachers, that bastard Gideon . . . " She swallowed tightly. "Even those people out there that I call 'friend' wouldn't exactly applaud the way I'm choosing to make my way through school. But you know what?"

She leveled him with her gaze, and Reid froze, unable to speak a word.

"I've cut a lot of the toxins out of my life, and even if this isn't something that's going on my resumes, it's all I have. It's easy, quick, and keeps my ass outta the homeless shelter. And I'm not going to quit, regardless of what your little prepubescent brain thinks of an over-romanticized world. So _do not_ ," she hissed the last two words, " _judge me_ , Spencer Reid."

The entire rant, Reid had been scooting back further and further from her, from her tone, from her anger – from everything that she could do to him. Arms wrapped tight around his midsection, his voice was muffled, difficult to hear.

"I wasn't judging you."

Elle's eyebrow arched. "Oh, no?"

Reid shook his head. "N-no, really. I don't care . . . I mean, it doesn't bother me what people use to make their way with." He looked up, wide eyes looking even wider in the dim light. "You do what you have to do."

Something in those weary eyes, in that contrite, melancholy tone, hit Elle right in the gut – and she got the feeling that she was missing something, that something didn't fit.

"You speak like you know," she whispered.

"Not like you know," Reid answered, wavering. "I don't . . . things are hard, and people adapt, survive . . . I know _that._ " He shook his head. "I would never have the mettle to do what you do every night."

"What I _do?"_

"Go out there," he gestured to the edge of the tent, shrugging in a way that was meant to hide his shivering frame. "Go out there, and not be scared about what the world could to do me. Have the guts to do what I want, when I want, with who I choose. Make money, and survive. Live."

She stared at him. "You . . . you really think that's what it's like?"

He nodded grimly, a set in his jaw. "I think . . . I don't . . . I don't _admire_ what you do, I guess, Elle; I wish life was easier on you, so that you could actually live how you _wanted_ , not _needed."_ He sighed, breath nearly visible in the faint chill.

"But I do commend you for making the best out of your situation."

Elle just stared at him. "I don't believe you."

Reid scanned her over, eyes taking in every inch of her defensive posture, her unwavering glare, and, after a long moment, shrugged sadly.

"You don't have to believe me. It won't stop it from being true."

"From being what . . . what you think," Elle corrected.

Reid sighed. "Is there really any difference?" When Elle didn't answer, he leaned away from her slightly, wrapping his arms in a comforting manner around his chest. "I didn't mean to start something, Elle. I just – I-I mean, I . . ." He gulped tightly.

"Thank you."

It wasn't roses and candles, wasn't perfection by any means. It was short, stoic, and left so very, _very_ many things unsaid.

But it was compassion, and it was understanding. It was someone seeing her for her greatest fault, and still saying they were proud of her.

Elle leaned in, encircling the smaller kid in her arms, and pulling him close to her, saddened by the way he tensed with even the slightest contact.

"You really are somethin' else, Spencer Reid."

He blinked. "As are you, Elle Greenaway."

"So, tell me . . . what's got you up this late at night?"

Though she said it with a smile, Reid frowned slightly. "Technically, it's early morning . . . And I could ask you the same thing."

Elle tossed her hair back. "You could."

"But I won't," Reid picked up, finally beginning to relax as the touch around him remained gentle and warm. Beside him, he could feel Elle slouching.

"Whatever," the girl relented, reaching behind her to blindly grab for a blanket. "We'll just have to agree to sleep together without knowing one another, Reid."

Spencer turned a bright red upon hearing her words, and began spluttering again in a most delightful way.

"I – I d-don't – I m-mean, even – "

She laughed that predatory laugh again, and wrapped the blanket around Reid. "Cool your jets, kid. It was a _joke_. Nothing's going on in here but some actual shut-eye, okay?"

"I can just go back to Morgan's – " Reid's protest was cut off by Elle shaking her head.

"Not a chance. It's almost three in the a.m., man. I need sleep, you need sleep. I don't want to walk out there with Hankel still roaming around – he has friends, you know. And there is _no way_ you're going alone."

Reid opened his mouth to argue again, but slammed it shut immediately upon seeing the determined look in the beauty's eyes.

No matter how talented he was with words, Spencer Reid knew that this was one battle he couldn't win.

"Okay," he finally relented, accepting the soft fabric that fell over his shoulders, warming him for the first time in what felt like ages. "Okay, I'll stay."

"Good," Elle shook her head approvingly. "I'd hate to have to beat someone when they day is so new." She laughed at the shocked look on Reid's face. "Relax, kid, it was a joke. _Just_ a joke."

After a moment of regarding her, Reid nodded once, and accepted the pillow Elle threw his way. Tightly encasing himself in the blanket, he put the pillow on his lap, and rested his elbows on it, head in his hands.

Elle sat back against her tent wall, head resting on a huge pile of pillows and old clothes. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, but could still feel the weight of the kid's stare on her.

"Somethin' wrong, kid?" He voice came out a bit more like a growl than she wanted, and she could practically _hear_ Reid wincing.

"N-nothing. I was just . . . I was just thinking."

"About?"

" . . . Lots of things. School, and home, and my mom . . . my dad . . . this place . . . Derek, Penelope, Aaron, JJ, Tobias . . . you . . ."

Elle smirked slightly, eyes still closed. "And what were you thinking about _me?"_

Oh, holy mother of fuck, was she actually _flirting_ with this . . . this _child?_

Reid didn't seem to notice either way. "About how you're different from what everyone thinks you are. How you can be just as quick to comfort a sad kid as you are to threaten to beat someone to death. About how your love shows in completely unique ways. About how . . ."

His voice began to drift – or maybe it was just Elle falling asleep. Either way, she only managed to catch the last few words barely.

" . . .you don't like to be alone."

She turned towards him. "Whaddaya mean?" She asked, eyes shooting wide open.

But there was no answer.

Reid was asleep. His head had fallen to the side, resting on one shoulder, and the blanket clung tightly to his minute frame.

For a moment, Elle thought about tucking him in some more, or at least putting a pillow under his head, but then thought better of it.

By some miracle, the boy was actually getting some rest. And she was _not_ going to disturb it.

Elle smiled, reaching out and ruffling Reid's hair. "Goodnight, kid," she whispered softly, before clicking off the light.


	7. Tryin'ToFigureOutThisLife

**Author's Note:** Well, Hoe-lee-Christ, it's been forever and a day since I managed to get on here . . . So let me start off by apologizing. That school project I mentioned in the last chapter? Yep, it's been just as big and terrifying and overwhelming as I thought . . . and the past few weeks have been nothing but research and testing recipes and training and nail-biting . . . to the point that I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow (my premiere), because then the week will start and soon it'll be Friday and all of this insanity will be over. I'm so, SO scared, and just sitting here at home, watching the clock tick, I needed a distraction, so . . . here I am. It was either kick my rear into gear and write some more of this story, or fall further into the Youtube abyss and watch more Septiplier trash (I think I ship those two almost as hard as I do Morgan and Reid now, LOLz.) And, well, . . . I missed y'all more.

So, naturally, RL kind of bled into this chapter a bit, as there is, of course, more angst (do I ever do anything but?), but I tried to write Elle a bit more, since she's growing on me, and getting cast in a larger and more significant role than I ever before imagined. I know there's not a terrible lot of this story left to go, but she's sticking with it for a bit longer. As will our final surprise guest-star . . . though no one's guessed who that is yet, *evil smile.*

A tremendous thanks again to everyone who's been so patient with me and kind with the reviews. Hopefully, starting Friday, I can crank out the weekly+ chapters until we're done here. I'd like to be finished before i turn 21, ya know? Still, I do adore all you guys. Without further ado . . .

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _DarkJediQueen: I adore the way you too call them 'our' poor band of characters . . . As much as we all wanna, no one really owns Spencer Reid . . . I'd be all over that shit like white on rice. LOLz, we got to ally reversed with our characters! I liked Hankle even though he wasn't around long, and thought ELLE was supremely creepy . . . Although Imma be somewhat nice to her in this fic. Rewatching some of the older episodes now, as a grown-ass woman, I hafta admit . . . She's not the_ _worst_ _person in the whole entire world. *Scowl*_

 _Village-Mystic: Wowzers, you had some excellent points in your reviews. Thank you — especially for going all the way back and leaving comments on every chapter. That was really sweet of you. Yeah, I know that AU can be incredibly hard to wrap your mind around. The only reason I even tried it was because one of my favorite authors of all time on here published a vampire/werewolf one, and I loved her work so much that I gave it the benefit if the doubt. Much like you did me, which, again, was supremely awesome-sauce of you. In general, I'm sad you thought it was crowded and overly-dramatic — I dig angst, and just can't stop playing with the BAU kid-edition. I mean, there's still more to come, so . . . sorry. If you decide that this just isn't for you, I will totally and completely understand. But know that I truly was thrilled to have your readership in the first place, and will keep you in mind as I start to wind this thing down and wrap it up._

 _write that wrong: Thanks for the well-wishes! My class is going well so far, and I open the restaurant tomorrow. So terrified . . . hence this chapter. I had to do something to occupy my mind, else I was going to be jumping on the bed all night. And I am glad you're finding Elle so okay . . . I've never loved her either, although I am coming to appreciate her place on the show. Thought it'd be nice to give her a chance in this fic, and, well . . . Whaddaya know? She's being nice, for once! I dunno if Tobias is coming back — I have a profound urge to have Derek kick his ass, just a little bit — but there's still a bit more of this Elle story-arc to tell as well, ya know? I'll decide later, promise. Thanks again for the awesome review!_

 _rose and 10: Oh, definitely poor Reid . . . It's not okay that I love hurting him so much, especially when I claim that I love him, too, right? Ugh . . . I'm not sure if Hankle is coming up again, but I can promise there's a bit more drama in the near sights . . . And I still want to introduce a crux character before I wrap this installment up, so . . . we'll see? Thanks for your enthusiasm, though; it made me smile._

 _Annber03: Hey, at least I was trying to be funny for once, am I right? Any chance to nag on Elle a little bit, and tease Reid . . . Well, her being a hooker who maybekidasorta flirted with our favorite genius just seemed too right to me. And even though we never really got to see that side of her on the show, I really think the chic is a bit of a sexually-charged leaper inside, ya know? Still, it made me giggle that you caught that. I have to admit, I thought of you a lot when i was writing the last chapter . . . Elle and Reid. Lord, am I starting to SHIP them? *Gasp, faint* Why, I nevah! The whole things is so new for me, and I was terrified to include the chic in the story at all at first, but your wonderful critique and warm reaction to her involvement gave me enough confidence to decide on the final arc for this fic, and Elle's actually got a much bigger part than I ever dreamed of — she kinda snagged the role from Hotch, the wiley minx . . . Anyways, your reviews and thoughts mean so much to me, and I so, SO appreciate your time in thoroughly and beautifully analyzing everything I write. I adore you for it. *Awkward hug* I hope every chapter after this one meets your standards, as well._

 _RissGrace17: I think you're one of the very few who truly like Elle, m'dear. She's been growing on my, but my favorite will always be Emily or something, methinks . . . Still, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I always love how upbeat your comments are. Thank you!_

 _Kas3y: To be totally honest, I wasn't exactly trying to cover Tobias's multiple personalities in this, actually. I mean, I wanted to make him supremely disturbed, and obviously the drugs had to come in play at some point, but I hadn't even considered the religious aspect . . . That was such a cool catch — I love you for noticing that! I'm not really sure if this is going to be a whump!fic . . . there's only so much story to tell, and while I adore reading and writing emotional angst, physical is a bit harder for me. But I'll keep it in mind. After all, I'm not really sure we've seen the last of Tobias yet, either. XD_

 _silverwrym: Gah, watcha mean there, huh? Me? Make Tobias creepy and scary and kinda pitiful? Be all dramatic and shit with the plot? Naaaah, you must be thinking of someone else!_ _Pssst. I'mma be a bit of a wet blanket here and promise you that Tobias is just playing the lost soul I adore him as, and was only looking for a friend in Reid, driven by desperation. I didn't at ALL mean for the 'hungry' thing to come across . . . like that. It just seemed like an adept description at the time . . . Might try to edit that at some point though, looking back on it, now . . . Yech. But I'm glad you're diggin' Elle in this. I hate to admit that she's starting to grow on me, but . . well, there you are. I might like her just a teeny tiny bit. And I am SO looking forward to having her and Morgan butt heads again. I'm not sure when, but i wanna put it in here. Like, the show always had the slight 'sexual tension' vibe going around those two, which I hated, because the friends I have in RL like them do NOT get along at all . . . So, I might have a clash of respective clans, as it were. But I'm thrilled you're okay with it so far. Not a million chapters to go, at least . . . But i hope you'll keep enjoying them, too!_

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 _Tryin' To Figure Out This Life_

* * *

Morning on the underpass, though it started quite late, was still entirely too early for the likes of Spencer Reid.

It was the thunder that woke him up, really. Twelve hours after the severe flood warnings had been issued and a curfew put into place had made absolutely _no_ noticeable difference in the state of the weather. Sheets of rain still poured down on the ground, hailing and hissing as the biting nip of chilled wind slithered over the ground, touching all in its path with a foggy wrap of cool air before sliding away, leaving nothing but a shiver to remember it by.

While Elle's tent was relatively close to the others' living under the bridge, she had still set up camp very near the edge of the bridge, and the graffiti-covered wall was mere feet from her 'home.' Chilly, musty air seeped in through the opening, followed by wave after wave of thunder.

Already a tenuously light sleeper, Spencer awoke after a few rolls of rumbling flashed a particularly loud strike of lightning, and for a moment, the entire tent was lit up as though it were daytime again.

At the intrusive noise, his entire body tensed, and he looked over at the still-sleeping form of Elle, as though to assure himself that he wasn't alone, that last night hadn't been a dream.

Apparently not. Her tangled hair was sprawled messily over her face, and even in sleep, the beautiful brunette's features were sharp, calculating.

Reid wondered if he'd ever stop being intimidated by her.

"Elle," he whispered, reaching out a hand and lightly touched her shoulder.

She twitched slightly under his touch, but otherwise gave no indication that she was in any way conscious.

 _"_ _Elle,"_ he whispered more urgently, poking her.

He had spent far too many mornings trying to wake up someone who clearly was deep in slumber, especially since his father had left three years ago; still, Reid felt an immense wave of guilt crash over him when Elle began to shift under his hand.

He _hated_ bothering people.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Elle began to waken. It was nearly a minute before her eyes began crack open, and she stared at him blearily from one eye.

" . . . 'ts goin' on?" she mumbled, words muffled by the way her face was still dug into her pillow.

Already chary, Reid took a long second to respond. "I'm – I'm s-sorry to wake you up, r-really, Elle, but – I – I mean, I was just w-wondering if – I mean, if you're not to busy – w-which, really, you shouldn't be, I mean, because I just woke you up, and I – sorry again about that, I j-just – " His rambling was immediately cut off when a hand came shooting blindly out from under the blankets and clamped over his mouth.

Elle spoke, her voice thick and clotted with sleep.

"Kid," she said, low and dangerous, " . . . dunno 'bout you, but I was up 'til the ass-crack of dawn . . . need my sleep, and 's not even nine. S'right now, your two best options are t'let me get back asleep and hope I don't 'member this when I wake up tonight, or to find me some coffee and appeal to my less violent nature."

Reid froze, completely unsure of how to respond. "I, uh . . . uh . . . "

Elle pulled her hand back under the pillows. "Go eat some breakfast, kid. We'll talk later, m'kay?"

Reid's eyes flashed from her to the sliver of the outside world visible from the tent. "Where – ?"

"They'll b'out there," Elle mumbled, waving her arm in the general direction Reid had just been looking. "C'mmunal breakfast. Go help y'rself."

"I – "

"Kid," she cut Reid off again, "I like you, but right now, the lack of sleep is makin' me forget that. So how 'bout this; if you have a death wish, go 'head and stay here and keep trying to talk to me. But if you want to keep all of y'r limbs _intact_ , you'd best just back outta here real slowly, turn tail, and go find a way to entertain yourself until about noon, _okay?"_

Forcing himself not to cringe at the tone, Reid finally took the hint, and backed away from Elle. He took the time to run his fingers through his hair and straighten his shirt out a bit before waving a goodbye and backing out of the tent. No sooner had the small flap fluttered shut than did Elle, half-conscious as it was, slide her eyes closed and bury herself deeper into the pile of blankets.

* * *

Even for a genius, it had taken Reid an abysmally long time to figure out where the rest of the group was; in fact, if he hadn't run into Derek slinking out of a tent with his arm wrapped around Penelope's waist, he probably still would have been running around when lunch came.

"Hey, Pretty Boy!"

Reid started, having been lost in his own torrid thoughts once more, and swiveled around to see the older boy and girl walking towards him, both wearing small, though similar, smiles.

"You had me kind of worried when I didn't see you this morning, kid. What happened?"

Reid shrugged it off, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. "Oh, I, uhm . . . I got up early for a walk, kinda, and ah . . . I'm just getting back."

His eyes flashed to the ground as he spoke, and it seemed plain to Derek that either the kid was lying, or he was hiding at least part of the truth. _Something._ He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

Reid's brow furrowed. "Uh . . . yeah." His hands were fiddling with the fabric on his elbows, a sure sign of nervousness.

Derek stepped forward, about to say something about it, when a small, guiding hand on his waist made him change his mind; he glanced back, to see Penelope ever-so-slightly shaking her head. _Later,_ her expression read.

 _Okay,_ responded Derek's own glimmering eyes, and he nodded imperceptibly.

Not here, not in front of people.

He would talk to the genius later. Later, when he might actually have a chance of getting the kid to open up.

Still, even as Derek turned back and gave a reassuring smile to Reid, he couldn't help but wonder . . .

Where had the kid really been?

 _What was he hiding?_

* * *

"Do you guys always sleep here together?"

The second the words slipped out, Reid wished he hadn't said them. Just hearing thee way they sounded made him cringe – as if he were asking about private, personal aspects of Derek and Penelope's relationship.

Ugh. For a proven genius, he could be such an _idiot_ at conversations!

However, seeing the terrified expression on his face, the two standing next to him around the bonfire they were trying to re-light merely smiled, Derek openly laughing after a moment.

"I'd sleep anywhere, if it meant getting to be with my Baby Girl," he said, pulling Penelope closer to him in an affectionate manner.

"Oh, you," she swatted at him jokingly, attempting to slip out from under his grip. He smiled, shaking his head and pulled her closer, pouting his lips.

Penelope glanced around them very quickly, and then stood on her tip-toes, planting a brief, light kiss on Derek's lips.

Derek smiled. "Mmm," he murmured, staring into her eyes.

They both seemed to realize at the same time that Reid was still there with them, and turned simultaneously to the flushing boy.

Deciding to ignore the embarrassment of the situation by not mentioning it further, Derek simply said, "Usually, we walk Penny and Jage and Hotch all home in the evening. But," he gestured to the rain still sleeting down not thirty feet from them, "when it's like this, we've got some extra tents laying around for them to use."

"Oh," Reid nodded once, mind immediately beginning to lose himself in thought.

"That's why we're all getting here for breakfast," Penelope chipped in. "It's still pretty nasty, and none of us has heating in this." She looked around. "We've all got some food stored away; not the most healthy stuff, no, but in a pinch . . ."

Reid nodded. Anything sounded good to eat. Besides, he got the distinct feeling that if he refused food, they were going to shove it down his throat anyway.

He said nothing else while they sat back and watched Derek struggle with, and then finally succeed in, getting a roaring fire started. As it built up, a wave of heat washed over Reid, and he realized for the first time just how cold he was. He slipped his arms around himself, and unconsciously leaned into the warmth.

Penelope watched all this with an amused eye. "We've got to get some meat on those bones, little genius. You wouldn't be so cold."

"Actually, studies show that a person's internal body temperature can be high – or low – regardless of one's actual weight. It's when the mitochondria – "

"Kid," Derek interrupted smoothly, "No offense, but we really _don't_ need a biology lesson right now, okay?"

Reid ducked his head, hair covering his face. "Oh. Okay."

Derek could see the sudden shift in the kid's demeanor instantly, and cursed inwardly. _Of course_ the kid was self-conscious – besides what he had told Derek last night, it was obvious enough from his shifty appearance and huddled posture – and nervous to boot, if the rambling was anything to go by.

He could have slapped himself. He'd only just met the boy yesterday, but something in him ignited a very protective instinct in Derek, and he wanted to help this Spencer Reid.

It was with no small amount of contrition that he quickly tried to correct himself. "Hey, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a dick. I just . . ."

 _Just what?_

The question was clearly written in Reid's eyes when he finally looked up from the ground, but his voice was steady.

"It's fine."

Derek shook his head. "It's not, kid."

"Really, I've had worse. I was rambling, you're right . . . thank you for telling me to stop." Somehow, Reid hitched a small smile onto his face, and very few would have been able to see it for what it was; a mask.

Derek did. But the glimmering lights in those hazel eyes told him clearly that the subject was closed, and so he backed off.

Instead, he cleared his throat, and accepted the containers of chips and sodas that Penelope was passing around. As he tore into them, Derek looked up.

"Didja sleep okay?"

Reid kept his focus on his bag of Cheetos, but did answer the question. "For the most part."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," the kid nodded. "I've never been the deepest sleeper, but considering the circumstances . . ." He shrugged, and then smiled. "Actually, coffee probably wasn't my best idea, anyway."

Penelope grinned. "You had _coffee_? What on _Earth_ were you thinking, Boy-Wonder?!"

"I'd never had it before, how was I supposed to know – "

"Don't give me that, _genius._ You _knew._ "

Reid spoke cheekily from over the bottle of Coke. "Like most people, I knew _nothing._ "

While Penelope giggled, Derek suddenly cut in. "Where did you get coffee at, kid?"

Reid's head snapped towards him, suddenly realizing his mistake.

For a moment, he only gaped, looking quite a bit like a fish out of water; his eyes were wide and unblinking, lower lip jutting out.

Finally, he spoke. "I g-got it from . . . from Elle."

"Elle?" Derek asked, a look of confusion on his face. It was understandable. After all, just the previous night, he had rather gotten the idea that his old friend and his new one didn't particularly care for one another. He said as much to Reid.

Reid surrendered himself to the inevitable.

"She just . . . we, uh . . . we ran into eachother this morning, and she took me to her tent, and we just kinda sat and . . . and talked for a little bit. She was very kind and helpful. Elle gave me some coffee, hence the reason I couldn't seem to sleep very well earlier, and, well . . ." Reid gestured on at nothing, hoping to incite a more casual line of conversation.

But Derek wouldn't let it go. "Wait a sec . . . I though you said you were out walking because you couldn't sleep . . ."

Reid's eyes took on a panicked look. "Oh, uhm – I – "

"How did you run into Elle?"

"Why do you care?" Reid snapped, voice sharp and defensive.

"Why do I _care_?" Derek's voice sounded hurt, almost offended, as he stared at the genius before him. "I _care_ about that because I _care_ about _you,_ Reid."

"Believe it or not, finding a stranger and forcing him to spend the night surrounded by a bunch of kids he doesn't know isn't a way for _caring_ for someone, Derek; it's a way of abducting someone."

Ouch.

Derek held back the sting that the kid's comment had inflicted, and forced himself not to start a war with unkind words. It would serve nothing but to further the newly-opened chasm between the two.

"I've already explained my reasoning to you kid, and I'm sure your damn _memory_ can serve you in remembering what I said. I was only trying to help – "

" _Help?"_ Reid laughed, actually _laughed,_ a hollow and bitter sound that was far too harsh for a 12-year-old.

" _Helping_ is not forcing someone to do something against their will, despite what you and Tobias might think."

Derek's jaw dropped. " _What?"_

The change that overcame Reid was instantaneous; he went from puffed up and righteously angry to terrified and shocked, clapping both hands over his mouth as his eyes the size of saucers stared at Derek, fear making him seem younger and more vulnerable than ever.

But Derek had to know now. "Tobias?"

Reid's eyes flickered away from him to the suddenly much-more-interesting floor. "I didn't say – "

"The fuck you didn't." When had Derek's voice gotten so deep, so _harsh_?

Reid gulped, feeling his pulse jump in his throat. "I – I d-didn't mean – "

Derek waved his had away. "I don't care about what you _didn't_ mean, kid." Even though the ache in his heart said differently. "What I want to know is what you _did_ mean."

"I – I – I j-just – I – "

"You know plenty of words, kid." Derek growled. "Use 'em."

Reid flinched back at the tone, and closed his eyes as if to block out the harsh sound. After a moment, he spoke, and it was with words clipped in either aggravation or apprehension . . . Derek couldn't really tell.

"I was . . . I couldn't sleep this morning. I went out to take a walk." His voice grew quieter, and Morgan could recognize the reluctance in that retreating voice. "I ran into Tobias, and . . . we had words. The conversation dissipated, and I spent the rest of my time with Elle."

"You had _words._ "

Reid flushed. "It was nothing – "

"What did you say."

"I told you, it was – "

"What. Did. You. _Say."_

"Derek – " Penelope tried to cut in, laying a hand on Derek's shoulder, but found herself swiftly ignored by both boys.

Spencer mumbled something, and Derek leaned in, his concern for the kid fighting with his protective instinct and deep-set abhorrence of that Hankel bastard.

"What?"

Reid looked up, and the infuriated look on his face was chilling. "I _said_ , it was _none_ of _your business!"_

His tone had heightened to a shout by the last word, and Derek was surprised enough that he took a step back.

The ever-so-slight increase in personal space seemed to spur the genius on further, and his eyes darkened with determination as he stared at Derek with that deep, penetrating glower that seemed to mar his entire delicate set of features from innocent and beautiful to hard, appalling.

"No matter what way you've twisted it in that head of yours, we are _not_ best friends, I do _not_ have to answer to you, and I am _not_ subject to _your_ will. I am not a child!"

Derek scoffed. "Sure looks like it to me, _kid._ "

Reid's shoulders set. "My physique might be less developed than yours, sure. But unlike _you_ , Derek, my mind is more than that of a mere kindergartener. I've been more than capable of taking care of myself for years now, and I'm fine doing it now without your interference."

Something wounded flashed over Derel's face, but he covered it up before it became too noticeable. "I don't know what pissed-off, superior, holier-than-thou stick you got stuck up your ass, kid, but whether you're too _young_ to recognize it or just to full of it, I _am_ trying to help you here."

" _Help_ me?" Reid's voice was incredulous. " _Help me?_ No, Derek, you're trying to _control_ me. You're taking me where _you_ want, telling me to spend time with the people _you_ like, and expecting me to do the things that _you_ want to do. That's not how you _care_ for someone, that's how you parent someone. You're not my father!"

"No, because I suppose if I was, then I would have taken off as quickly as possible!"

"Derek!" Penelope said, looking frantically between him and Reid.

But it was too late. The words had landed. And now it was Derek who looked horrified at something he'd said.

Though Reid's eyes glimmered in the same manner as the flickering fire, they held none of its heat. A look of tortured agony washed over his face, the kind of complete anguish that crushed Derek's heart.

He stepped forward, but the kid flinched back, one hand shooting up to his throat as a low, wounded-animal like sound of pain escaped his sealed lips. His eyes shot up to Derek's, frantic and full of anger, just as confusing as the kid himself.

They locked gazes, predator and prey, although neither was entirely sure of the role he was supposed to play.

. . . And then Reid blinked, and the moment ended. In one fluid move that seemed too practiced for a body so young, he turned around swung his feet, rapidly propelling away from the older two.

Devastated, Derek jogged forward a few steps, reaching out his hand. "Kid – "

His fingers weren't even able to make contact with Reid's shoulder; the genius swung around, and the look on his face nearly did the older boy in; anger was etched into every feature on his soft face, giving him a harsher and older look.

But it was the sadness that layered in his eyes that made Derek's heart flip over.

It was a look no child should have.

"I . . ."

Derek's mouth moved, but no sound came out. After a second, Reid blinked, and with some effort wrenched himself away. He turned, and made to leave.

"Reid," Derek called, not even himself entirely sure of what to say.

It didn't matter, though – as soon as the sound left his lips, the genius's walk sped into a run, and more quickly than anyone looking at him would have thought capable, he zipped away and disappeared into darkness, leaving a stunned and appalled Derek and Penelope behind him.

Outside, the thunder rolled.

* * *

The echo of Derek's words still pounding in his head, Reid had quite literally blindly stumbled around under the bridge, eyes clouded with tears and all sense of direction vanished as soon as he left the minimal light cast off by the fire. It had only been when he felt rain on his shoulders that the young genius realized he'd stumbled out from under the safety of the bridge.

Blinking the water out of his eyes, Reid had spotted a small pile of gravel, debris, and boulders off to the side; soaking wet and surrounded by mud, the entire thing looked as dilapidated as Reid felt. Sad and alone and quiet, exactly where no one would be able to hear him not talking.

It was perfect.

Without a second thought, Reid had pushed aside one of the larger rocks, allocating a small – miniscule, really – space to crawl into, and he wedged himself between the silt, only struggling a little bit before he was totally covered in what he jokingly realized was akin to a silt igloo. He had pushed aside a few more rocks so that he had the minor breathing room, and then, fidgeting, curled up to rest.

Spencer Reid had never liked cramped spaces. Not even as a baby could he remember being fond of someplace like his bassinette that was too small, too cramped, and too tight. It felt like there wasn't room to _exist_ in snug spaces, let alone do essential things like breathe. Think.

. . . Care . . .

Or panic. When there was barely enough room to tuck his elbows into his side, something in Reid just felt . . . safe?

The genius wasn't someone prone to agitation. Though sometimes he marveled at the mess of distorted event after event that made up his life, rarely ever did the genius truly, in younger slang, freak out.

After all, he was a twelve-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school system, socially awkward and small for his age. His father had long since left the picture, and his mother was, in her own way, checking out as well.

And there would be those occasionally days when, despite his well-anchored coping mechanisms and mile-high walls around his heart, Spencer Reid simply couldn't handle another insult, another bruise . . . another time when he needed arms around him to comfort him from cruel kids, or to shield him from the violent ones, and coming home only to find one parent so lost in a hallucination of their own demons that there was virtually no love to be sought for personal benefit.

Those days, though rare that they were, when all of the panic and hurt and anger would build up inside of Reid until he couldn't see straight or hear without echoes . . . those were the days when Reid would hide.

It was childish. Of course he knew that. And when it _wasn't_ one of those particular times, Reid would berate himself for still acting like a third-grader, for having to take comfort in the pretending that the rest of the outside world didn't exist . . .

But when it actually was one of those precarious days when the feelings both physical and emotional were digging into his world-weary heart, Reid forgot everything about who he normally was. Really, that was the point. On those days when his feet were sinking in the ground, and not a soul was around to pull him back from the abyss, Reid did something he never, ever did otherwise.

He fled.

He would find a space – someplace small, someplace dark and quiet and completely, utterly, _secretly_ secluded – and he would stuff every inch of himself in there until he was surrounded on all sides by things that were _not him._ The tighter he had to curl in on himself, the better – because, as uncomfortable as it made Spencer to be in so much contact, well . . .

. . . that was the point. When he was crammed into a small space – in a hall closet, under a bed – nothing, could get to him; not the thoughts of how he was twelve years old and still have never had a real 'best friend,' not worries over the bills he was still and always struggling to pay, not Alexa or Harper or Mike or his father or his mother or the teachers or the principals . . .

. . . no one was allowed in. It was perfect, really; masochistic if someone looked beneath the surface. Reid would fold himself in _on_ himself until there was no room to breathe, much less think . . . with his own bony frame tucked up tightly, head buried in his knees, suddenly . . .

. . . well, suddenly, the world became less and less about his inner pain, and more and more about things actually grounded in reality. The pound of his shattered heart would be replaced by the blood rushing to his eardrums, and, after a particularly long while, the physical discomfort began offset whatever mental despair he was going through – and, then, very slowly, Reid would go number and number, until he couldn't feel anything anymore. And finally, only when he was able to bury every overwhelming emotion rather than fight them head-on, would he allow himself to breathe normally, and eventually return to a piqued world.

Deep down, the genius knew it was unhealthy – knew that he could be doing damage to both his body and his mind with his twisted coping mechanism, but he really and truly couldn't help himself. It was the only thing that had stopped him from going postal on more than one occasion, horrible as that sounded.

And anyway, he would justify to himself, the times at which he got so very upset were few and far between.

Unfortunately . . . this time was one of them.

There was nothing more to distract him from going over the fight he'd just had.

Even thinking about Derek's words had Reid's blood beginning to boil, and he could feel himself locking down, tensing up from the stress.

From the hurt.

 _I would have taken off as quickly as possible._

He winced.

Of all the things that people had said to him to hurt him over the years, no one, _not a single soul_ , had ever been ably to touch that particular nerve.

 _If I was your father –_

Except that he wasn't. Derek Morgan had been someone that Reid had stupidly opened up to. Someone he had, unwittingly, begun to trust.

Now he remembered the reason why he so rarely did that.

 _I would have taken off –_

Oh, how he wished that the older boy had! Instead of taking a moment to make Spencer begin to grow faith in, Derek Morgan should have just left him in the bus stop, let him handle his problems like he always did.

By himself.

He shook his head. Too late, now.

 _If I was –_

" – you, I'd put on another layer of clothes, kiddo."

Reid jerked, looking up. "W-What?" His teeth chattered far louder than he would have liked.

Elle just rolled her eyes. "I said that if I was you, sitting here all soaking and freezing in the fucking rain, I'd at least want another jacket before I kept moping."

Reid scowled. "I'm not _moping._ "

Elle raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're not, kid."

Reid glared. "It's fine. I'm fine. This . . . this is n-none of your business." His words were hard to make out over the chattering of his teeth.

Elle sighed, and then stepped closer, the bottom hem of her pants sinking into the mud. Though Reid stared, the older girl took no notice. She leaned down, hands on her knees, and looked the young genius straight in the eye.

"You're damn straight it's none of my business. I shouldn't care less what the Hell happens to you, Spencer Reid." Her eyes narrowed, and Reid sucked in a quick breath, nerves elevating.

"But I'm asking, which means it fucking _scares_ me to see you out here like this. I mean, c'mon, kid, you're gonna make yourself sick if you keep this up."

Reid bit his lower lip. He was so used to taking care of himself. People just didn't ask him about his needs . . . they didn't. Didn't know, didn't notice – didn't _care._

But here was this girl that he'd only just met recently, kneeling in front of him, genuine concern reflecting back in her eyes.

And it went against every instinct that was so deeply engrained in him to do so, but finally, after a moment, Reid stopped chewing on his inner cheek, and met Elle's gaze head-on.

"It was Derek," he whispered.

Something flashed across Elle's face, too quick to identify, before she collected herself and answered, "Morgan?"

When Reid nodded, the older girl shook her head, and her entire body tensed, battle-ready.

"Did he do something?"

" . . . No. It was just words."

"Sticks and stones," the girl muttered, glancing at Reid out of the corner of her eye.

With his chestnut locks in his face, Reid didn't notice the concerned expression she gave at his dismayed, downtrodden expression.

Suddenly, a hand clapped on his shoulder, and Reid jumped, much to his chagrin.

"Wanna come on a walk with me, kid?"

Reid looked around. "A – pardon me?"

Elle rolled her eyes. "You talk like a senior citizen, kid. A _walk_ – you know, slower than a run, but faster than a stroll?"

Reid blinked. "I – I don't want to go back in yet."

"I was talking about a walk outside – I have some errands to run."

Reid glanced once more at the downpour, at the mud splattering the knees of his pants. "It's pouring rain!"

"All the more reason to find somewhere more covered and heated. You in, or what?"

Elle's expectant expression racked Reid's nerves, and he hastily shook his head. "I don't think – "

"Then I'm going. Get somewhere warm, kiddo. Quick, okay?"

The girl turned rapidly on her heel to leave, and Reid stayed frozen, somewhat shocked by the way that Elle had simply respected his wishes, and not dragged him along with her against his will.

It was the first time that had happened in so, _so_ very long.

"Wait!" he called, quickly scrambling to his knees.

A few feet in front of him, Elle froze, and waited patiently while Reid climbed up out of his soaked crevice, and ran towards her.

The second he was within arm's length, Elle lifted up her arm, and draped the soaked twelve-year-old under the edge of her giant leather coat. Reid started to protest, but the girl silenced him with one look.

"C'mon, kid. Let's get to town fast, okay?"

Reid spoke quietly, digging deeper into Elle's side as an attempt to get warmer.

" . . . Okay. I'm with you."

* * *

 **Author's Endnote:** I guess I should apologize for making Derek kind of dick in this, but . . . well, I love him like that. A generally good guy who has moments of extreme douchiness. Seems like he could be that way on the show, even if we see more of his good and defensive sides than anything darker . . . Hmm. I dunno.

Ah, well, I'm off to worry myself to bits and watch _X-Men: First Class_ again. See you all soon! (I promise!)


	8. Why Is Everything So Confusing?

**Author's Note:** Soooooo . . . I survived! Not gonna lie, guys, it's been one helluva week. Lots of headaches, some tears, about thirty-fucking- _thousand_ batches of motherfucking _crepes . . ._ But thanks to a few good friends, the _American Beauty/American Psycho_ FOB Album, and one absolutely _astounding_ team of fellow cooks, our restaurant succeeded, we all made it out alive, and no one got worse than a B+ for the project! *WHOOPS*

Anyhoo . . . I actually scribbled this out yesterday when I got back from class — the adrenaline was still pumping — but I didn't feel okay with posting something on 9/11, terribly sorry. But, it's been edited and barely approved, so here we go now instead.

I keep saying that we're approaching the end of this little work, but it's not this chapter. Very soon, though — we've almost gotten to the part I've been drooling to write since the beginning, and then we're back on track, fine and dandy. This one gets a little stretched, I'll admit . . . not my favorite chappie ever. But, well . . . the muse kind of slammed me over a desk and forced me to write, as Ahmose would say. Sew, without further ado . . . read on!

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _DarkJediQueen: I can't even pretend that I don't totally approve of your opinion, here. I LOVE angst, as is made obvious in nearly every one of my fics, and I often find myself grinning or giggling madly when the characters I so love are in anger or turmoil. I dig that shit, no denying it. So, no, it is most assertively NAWT bad that the fight makes you wanna cheer. I mena, don't get me wrong, I adore Morgan and Reid (both together and apart) to no end, but there's always something very satisfying about seeing a character get reamed on the things you find wrong with them (I always adored when Morgan sat down Hotch on the show, and told him he was screwing everything up after the whole 'Foyet thing' . . .) Still, all rambling aside, I'm glad it got a positive reaction from you. makes m'heart sing, and though there's not much left, I'm PRETTY sure the angst load is slowly going to lighten. I do want a happy ending, after all!_

 _RissaGrace17: Aww, thank ya ever so much for all the love! I appreciate the kindly compliments you always leave. *Smiles* Terribly sorry, but I can't disclose classified information about such touchy subjects as that - if I told you whether or not Derek and Spencer make up, it would spoil the next chapter or so, now wouldn't it. But think of it like this; what does Reid seem most likely to do? . . . XD, that's probz no help at all, since this is OOC AU, after all. Sorry, love! But you'll get answers, I promise - and soon, too. Though I mightily adore teh angst, I can assure you that a brighter ending is in store, and we're heading rapidly for it. I just hope you'll enjoy it through the bloddy finish. (FYI, that's 'bloody' as in the British vernacular for 'damn,' not 'bloody' as in gorey. Yech, not in this fic, NOPE.)_

 _autumnamberleaves: Thank you so much for both the compliment and the well-wishes. Things didn't go exactly how I planned in my pseudo-restaurant, but in trying to look on the bright side, I can at least concede that they could have gone so, SO much worse. So, I appreciate the nod - I survived. And I'm so happy you continue to be happy with the story; it's been driving me bonkers at times, but I'm really proud of how far it's come - so different than what I first imagined, even if I still plan on a somewhat similar ending. This piece is becoming one of my most concentrated, and it really does warm my heart that you've stuck with it, and continued to enjoy it through this much. I hope you'll like what's next to come - don't kill me, please! *Grins*_

 _Annber03: You always manage to make me feel like such a complete and total BOSS, very time I read one of your reviews. I love you for that. *Awkward virtual hug* So, first off, thank ya ever so much for the well-wishes on my time at Scallions. While I can't say that things went off without a hitch, they did go astonishingly well, and if nothing else, well . . . I lived? Still not sure if I would ever choose to relive the experience, but . . . nonetheless, it makes me smile. So, this whole chapter . . . Wowzers. I mean, yeah, you were totally right in that I kind of did a number on my two favorite boys . . . I think it's really for the best that I don't question why I call them my favorites when all I seem to want to do is torture the poor dearies . . . But I find it very reassuring that you, at least, can see that I had the tiniest smidgeon of a point in that sentiment. Reid's a very independent character (even though he does need the occasional cuddle, I'm sure), and Morgan's overprotectiveness borders on posessiveness, to the point where I find it rather surprising hat the two don't butt heads over it on the show more often. I suppose that that's when they're adults and everything, whereas when they're kids, all hormonal and angst-ridden, things are far more likely to blow out of proportion. So, I guess it makes sense . . . and somehow, those two always seem to wind up coming to spats in my fics - whether as brotherly, affectionate, overbearing or straight-up-dislike, I just FEEL those two not getting along as they seem to all the time, ya know? But I'm so, SO incredibly happy you got what I was going for - I kinda vomited the chapter out in a few hours of nerves over the next day, and posted without the usual scutinizing proof-look. At the same time, of course, I totally respect your opinion that, at his tender age and in the difficult situation Reid finds himself in in this, he really DOES need someone to look after him a bit. I dunno, though . . . I was raised to take care of myself from double-digits on, so I can more sympathize with the genius in this case. Then again, I never found myself trying to run away from home, so obviously the circumstances are very different. I think we can agree that besides the occasional dumb-ass-ery, both Morgan and Reid are simply superb people, and each only want the best for the people they care about - which thankfully includes one another. And Elle too, I guess. man, she's becoming more and more accidentally maternal in this, eh? Can't help it; I dig the idea of a tough-as-nails mother, and Reid is one just BEGGING for some TLC. Even if Elle's the last person I would normally consider getting it from, LOLz. But there might be some more people gunning for that position in this-slash-the-next chapter. *Wiggles eyebrows* You'll see what I mean, promise. In the meantime, thank you so, so much for your lovely reader-and-reviewer-ship; it means a lot to me._

 _Sue1313: Oh, actually, that's so funny - I'd never even really considered the idea that Morgan and Elle might be some sort of jealous about both caring for Spencer. I mean, both are their own special kind of sympathetic and messed up, and both have somewhat grouse ways of showing affection, but . . . Wowzers, I really like that. They both want to talk to the genius, help him if they can, but each thinks their method is the best . . . and both are kind of righ and kind of wrong. I think I like the idea of Elle being the one Spencer approaches to confide in more, if for no other reason than I see Morgan/Reid all the time, and I find I'm really starting to dig writing Elle, the more I get into it in this fic. 'Tis fun. The coming-to-terms thing . . . sounds like it could be another excuse for angst - I like that. Ooh, you've given me a hint of - dare I say? - inspiration! I think I have to try and write that scene. Ohh, thank you so, so much - if this works out, the next chapter is all for you, girl!_

 _BAUProfileQueen: Nothing but compliments from you; I swear, you're making me blush! Thank you so, so much for the kind words and comments - people liek you bring a lot of sunshine to my day, if it's not too cliche to say that or anything . . . And I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm. I hope this next bit continues to satisfy. Thank you, again!_

 _Kas3y: ACK, you have NO idea how glad I am to hear that you liked the way I wrote Morgan — you always have such nice opinions about in-characterization, and I know that I've been WAAAAAY off the map with Derek, especially in the last chapter. I totally agree with you about him being a more angry child. Although, in all honesty, I hadn't even considered the whole abuse angle . . . I mean, yeah, I mentioned it, but the connection didn't really hit that THAT might be why he's so angrily about Reid 'running away' from his problems . . . as if he considers that that's what he himself has done . . . Such a cool point! Thank you for that. And, yeah, I know, it's a lot of drama . . . but that's kind of my jam, LOLz. Don't worry, we'll mellow out by the end . . . I think. We shall see._

 _MW3addict: Hey, hey, hey, none of that, now! No apologies are EVER necessary in regards to review. I totally adore reading anything you wonderful people have to say, but I have not, nor will I ever, EXPECT you to leave commentary for me. It'd be a tad hypocritical, since I so very much enjoy reading stories on here, but have probably left less than 500 reviews in m'life . . . And I have over 1,000 favorites on FF. I appreciate anything you find the time to say, love. I will admit, I know the 'bond' with Elle and Reid is pushing the envelope a bit, since we didn't get to see them mash too much in the show (except for just before Elle left in Season 02), but I LOVE them together. She reminds me so much of my own sister, and I always wanted Reid to have a relationship with someone who wouldn't hesitate to beat his ass down, but would kill anyone else for trying, ya know? Might have to have her beat Morgan for being, as you so eloquently put, a douchebag, though. Hah. That'll be fun to write, ja? Thanks so much for the smiles your review gave me, though — I needed it after this long week._

 _SpencerReid27: Awesome username, just so you know! And thank you so much for the comments — it makes the place where my heart used to be sing to think that people are still liking this, for all of the stretching I've been doing with reality in it. I'm so happy you're enjoying it . . . as for your wonderings . . . all shall be answered in the chapter below! (Or the next two or three. *Grins evilly*)_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

 _Why Is Everything So Confusing?_

* * *

One thing Reid had always liked about Las Vegas was the lights.

When someone was like him, trembling in the face of the deep, dark night, the fact that the city was known to be one that never slept came as something of a placatory gesture; from dusk till dawn, and all back over again, the many thousands of flashes and twinkling's coming from strip after strip of malls, casinos, hotels, restaurants, homes, and anything and everything else had always proved to be a huge comfort.

In his worst nights, Spencer would roll over in bed and face the window, letting his overactive mind and imagination slowly be coaxed into sleep by the thousand colors and tones of a city that was bursting with life.

Such was not always the case, especially in a severe thunderstorm. As the rain came pelting down in fat droplets so fast they were almost painful, Elle marched through the slurry as naturally as if she were born to do it; Reid, meanwhile, was falling a bit behind.

"C-could you p-possibly _slow down –_ j-jus a b-bit, please?" he stammered out, wrapping his arms tightly around his thin frame in a vain effort to warm himself up.

Several feet in front of him, Elle halted. "Keep up or drop out, kid – that's the rules here on the street."

" _Those,_ " Reid corrected under his breath, breathing harsh from the effort of wading through so many near-flooding walkways.

Elle glanced at him. "What was that?"

Reid didn't respond for a moment. "I didn't know you had rules for living on the street."

At that, the older girl actually smiled a little bit. "Officially, no, but if ya wanna make it out here, you hafta live and learn. Number one rule? Don't even try if you're not willing to get going when the going gets tough."

Reid squinted. "Isn't that a paraphrase from a modern colloquialism? _When the going gets tough, the tough get going?_ Admittedly not the most ingenious of antithesis, but still one of the more popular parallels in use today, thanks to John F. Kennedy. Did you know that – "

"Jesus," Elle muttered, rolling her eyes and turning around, beginning to walk again.

Reid scurried to keep up. "Wait, where are we going?" He questioned, puffing as he struggled to keep his balance on the slickened streets.

Not breaking pace, Elle called over her shoulder, "Just a few things – some errands I have to run."

"You're not going to give me any more details than that?" Reid frowned.

"For the most part, kid, it's none of your business, but I didn't know a way to say that without seeming extremely rude – like just now."

"None of my – ? I'm here with you!" Reid protested, indignant.

"Okay," Elle shrugged. "And your point is . . .?"

Reid stammered, "M-my point _is_ that if you're going to just drag me along to places when I don't even know – "

In front of him, Elle came to a sudden halt, and her hand shot out. Reid, still caught up in what he was saying, didn't see it, and slammed into the girl with a small _oomph._

"Listen here, Reid, and listen good; first and foremost, I did _not_ drag you along to have some little adventure with me. _I_ said I was going to run into town, _you_ invited _yourself_ along, and _I_ haven't made you go back. That can change in an instant, so _cool it_ with the attitude." She took in a breath as though calming herself, and when Elle spoke again, it was with her cool, dispatched demeanor tugged firmly into place once more. "Secondly . . . not everything gets to fall into your little world of neat and tidy – you can't control each little detail, kid."

Reid frowned. "I know that."

"Then why do you keep trying to?"

"I – I'm not – "

"Save it," Elle cut in. "One thing I know for damned sure that's true in this life is that you can't bullshit a bullshitter, Reid. And you're trying to do that, just like you were trying to take charge back there, even though we both know you're actually lost in a situation like this." She stared at the young genius, eyes probing as though they could see past his outer layers and through the inner shields; as though Elle was looking into his very soul.

Reid shifted, uncomfortable by the scrutiny.

It was a long moment before Elle spoke.

"You're scared."

Reid's eyes shot up to meet her, instantly defensive. "I'm not _scared –_ "

Elle interrupted, speaking over him. "You're scared, and that makes you even more terrified – the fact that you can be so helpless as to actually be _intimidated_ by something. Like you've lost control, and something else is in charge of you and your fate, and _that scares the shit out of you,_ am I right?"

Reid stared at her, eyes wide, and after a minute or so, Elle scoffed, shaking her head and turning to look forward again.

Her words were laced with acid. "You're a scrawny little pipe-cleaner with a brain that weighs more than you do, lost in a giant city of people who are more social, less cumbersome, and better-looking than you are."

"Thank you for insulting me in a more articulate way than the rest of my schoolmates," Reid cut in bitterly. His eyes were cast downward, so Elle couldn't read his expression – but if his tone and stiff shoulders were anything to go by, then the kid was hurt. But more than that, he was _pissed._

 _Good._

"Quit it with the false bravado, kid – I ain't buyin' it, and no one else will." For the first time in so long, Reid looked up at her, and Elle continued.

"People tell ya to put on a brave face and that confidence is beautiful and that the best foot forward is the first step. They tell ya that if you just _believe,_ that things will get better and better, and that you'll still get the happy ending that every book ever has written about. But what they don't tell you, kid, is that _none_ of them has ever actually _seen_ it happen: no one's really beaten death in a knick of time and walked off with the pretty princess or handsome knight; no one's saved the entire world in one fell swoop; no one slays the dragon. The world has teeth, and it can damn sure reach up and bite you anytime it wants to."

"Stephen King," Reid mumbled under his breath.

Elle nodded, an approving – almost affectionate – look on her face. "Yep. If anyone has a real idea of how the world is, it's that man." Her words were commending, a note of respect lining them, and Reid looked up to see the brunette's expression softer than a moment ago.

Elle locked gazes with him, and something behind her irises shifted.

"My point is, kid, that you can't hide from your problems. No one can – not through denial or avoidance or retrograde amnesia. The real world's always out there – teeth bared."

Having said her piece, Elle withdrew ever-so-slightly, and the air between them calmed. They continued to walk, rain pattering all around them, and for a few moments, silence reigned.

Finally, Reid bit his lip, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't – I d-don't really like to th-think of the world like that."

"Of course you don't," Elle spoke as those it was so indelibly obvious. "No one does, kid – it's scary to think that for all our careful budging and trimming, for all of our well-groomed days and sleepless nights . . . in the end, we might still be powerless to stop the universe – or fate, or karma, or even God – from doing whatever the Hell pleases them, regardless of our own puny existence."

Reid swallowed tightly. "Yeah, that – that would be it."

A very tiny, almost grim smile made its way onto Elle's face. "Don't sweat it, kid. We're all scared, way deep down inside." Seeing Reid's surprised expression, she shrugged. "What? You think I'm gonna lie to ya? We've only just met, but you should know damn well that I don't sugar-coat things, Reid."

She sighed. "I'm terrified of the world. The universe. Hell, even fucking _Las Vegas_ scares me a little bit; these are places that are all so . . . so _huge,_ and I'm just me."

Reid's voice was hushed. "You don't _seem_ scared."

Elle pursed her lips. "Of course I don't; I'm a vagrant teenager who lives underground and makes her way by fucking strangers. My life is literally _covered_ with things that are bigger than I am. I work with the unknown and more powerful every second of every day of my life; I can't let them know for even a second that they scare me." She shrugged. "I can't let them win."

Reid opened his mouth to ask another question, but when he looked up at Elle, something in her face quieted him; the girl was withdrawn, quiet for the first time since they'd met, as though she was sifting through something in her own mind – untangling a knot of thought after distorted thought.

Reid closed his mouth, and turned ahead, continuing to let Elle lead them, and quiet settled over the pair as they continued to trudge through the rain, step by step by step.

* * *

None of the thunder had let up when the two stepped out of a supermarket more than an hour later, arms weighted down with small bags. For reasons she'd yet to say, Elle had dragged Reid into the store as soon as they passed it, insisting that they would on be 'just a sec.'

And now, nearly an hour later, they stood outside, arms weighted down by cans of tomato soup, boxes of granola bars, and packages of coffee and powdered milk.

Both Reid and Elle were donned in new plastic slickers – something the girl had thrown into their cart at the last minute, still refusing to answer any of Reid's plethora of questions. Rather, she shoved the thing at him and told him he wasn't going to 'fucking get a cold' on her watch.

. . . How sweet . . .

Reid was pretty sure his astounded 'thank you' had gone mostly unheard as the girl produced a wad of singles from somewhere and paid the register in cash.

And now, staying dry for the first time all day and actually relatively warming up, his palms were dug into by the weight of all the groceries Elle had bought, and his questions still unanswered. He looked up at his companion, eyes hooded by the plastic sheet, and tried to gather up his courage.

"Can I take your order?" She spoke out of the side of her mouth, eyes still searching along the street line for . . . something.

Reid jolted back, stumbling in the rain. "Uh . . ." was all he could come up with, cheeks flushing.

Elle smiled that indecipherable smile again. "Chill, kid. I'm just looking for my sister."

Reid quirked an eyebrow. "Sister?"

"I wish you would stop calling me that, Elle-bell."

The grin on Elle's face went from simpering to genuine in a second. "And I wish _you_ would stop calling me _that_ , Ash. But we don't always get what we want in life, can you believe it?"

"Yes, _est_ _que tragic. C'est la vie, non?"_

"Indeed," Elle sighed, turning around to face the intruder. Unable to help his curiosity, Reid turned also.

The first thought that hit him was how remarkably much this girl looked like that one JJ; also tall and slender, her blonde hair was more of a strawberry, and it curled softly into her pointed face, where sharp blue eyes evaluated Reid most calculatingly. Though obviously not much older than the genius himself, she was dressed in full makeup, tight jeans, and a low-cut T-shirt that pushed her into looking significantly more like she was in her twenties.

Noticing his keen studying, the girl raised an eyebrow. "Can I take your order?"

Reid blinked. "That's what Elle just – "

"Yep, she got it from me. Along with the fabulous sense of style, the tendency to drink too much coffee, and a mutual love of old Marvel comics."

"You need to stop telling people that, Ash."

"Never, sister."

Reid looked between the two jovially arguing women. "Are you two actually sisters?"

The blonde girl glanced at Elle before answering. "Damn skippy. We share the blood bond that cannot be broken, the human equivalent of the Unbreakable Vow, we – "

"Ash," Elle cut in, "he's new, he doesn't get the sarcasm."

"Oh," the other girl turned back to the genius, still smiling cheekily. "In that case – what business of it is yours?"

Reid blushed. "I – I don't – I m-mean, I just – "

Seeing his flustering, Elle leveled the blonde girl with a very mild glare. " _Ash."_

Immediately, all teasing dropped from the younger's face, and she turned to Reid, cutting off his rambling with a gentle hand placed carefully on his shoulder.

"Relax, honey, I was having a go at you. You're really not one for satire, are you?"

"Actually, I find satire most enjoyable – the double entendre with words on multiple levels of inherent meanings, the ridicule of the vices in one's own flaws, the lack of demure – really, it all comes back to this really famous writer, Jonathon Swift, who in post-Famine Ireland – "

Seeing the way he was being stared at by the girls, Reid immediately cut himself off, mouth slamming shut and eyes casting downward. He mumbled, so quietly that his company had a hard time hearing it, "I have a hard time understanding people's sarcasm, yes."

Elle spoke more gently than her fierce face would seem capable of. "It's fine, kid, a lot of people do. Even _doofus_ over there." She gestured to the blonde.

Rolling her eyes, the other girl stepped forward and grinned. "Normally, Elle calls me _Ash_ because I'm white, fine, and hard to keep around."

"It's because it's short for _Ashley,_ you nitwit."

Reid glanced up, hazel eyes covered by the curls tumbling into his face. "H-hi, Ashley. My name's Re – ah, Spencer. B-but you can call me R-Reid, if – you know, if you want to."

Ashley smiled at him. "I think I like that. Reid. Okay, Reid it is." She finally took her hand off of the genius's shoulder. "You know I was kidding with you earlier, right, Reid?"

"I guess I do now," he answered. Not yet looking up, he asked once more, "Are you two really direct family? Because the odds of non-Native parentage producing a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child are significantly low – less than 28% proven lineage. And then the statistical likelihood of Aryan parents conceiving someone with clearly Hispanic features – "

"Kid, you lost me at percentage," Elle cut in. "I'll just tell ya – no, Ash and I are _not,_ ah, . . . direct family? We met each other in the foster-care system a few times."

"C'mon, Elle, you know we're sisters deep down." Yet again, the beautiful younger girl's voice had a teasing lilt to it.

"As good as," Elle finally agreed, slinging a laden arm over Ashley.

Noticing the weight of the limb, the blonde turned towards Elle's hand, and her face alit in a huge smile when she saw the numerous bags clutched there.

"You brought food?" came her excited voice.

Elle nodded. "Do me a favor, Ash – take some of these, and some of the kid's. We'll walk over to your place before it starts raining again.

Nodding giddily, Ashley hurried to take nearly half of Elle's bags, and all of Reid's, easily clutching them in arms that were obviously stronger than they looked, and scurried on ahead.

Reid looked up at Elle, blinking as the rain fell past his hood and into his eyes. "Sister?" he asked again.

* * *

Slowly, as the group made their way into the downtown area – if that's what lower Las Vegas could really be called – the rain steadied to a resolute mist, and it became easier for all three of the youth to hear one another as they walked on.

"How long have you and Elle known each other?" Reid asked.

Without turning back, Ashley responded, "Lemme see . . . I'm fourteen now, so it woulda been about six years."

"Since you were eight?" Reid tried not to sound too surprised; after all, the length of time _would_ explain the closeness the two seemed to share.

Both girls nodded. Elle said, "We were in the same group home for about two-point-five, and after I rotated out, we've bumped into one another a few times since then."

"And you've always had such a bond?" Reid questioned. He couldn't help but be curious; though a genius, the concept of friend-making was rather foreign to the young boy, and he wanted to learn as much as he could when given the opportunity.

The corners of Elle's mouth turned up grimly. "Pretty much. We've helped each other through a few rough patches."

Reid opened his mouth again, and Elle cut him off, "Don't ask."

The harshness in her voice was enough to silence Reid's curiosity, and he quieted himself.

Ashley, seeing the humbled look on the younger boy's face, turned to Elle. "It's fine, Elle, I don't care if he knows. I mean, the fucker is in prison, he isn't going to get me or anything."

Reid kept his eyes on the ground. "Who?" He asked, the word barely slipping out through the small tangles of curls in his eyes.

He didn't see the heated glance that the two girls shared before Ashley turned to him and said simply, "My name is Ashley. That's what everyone calls me, and that's how I've always introduced myself. I consider it my full name."

Reid watched her, carefully measuring his expression into blankness, and nodded once. At that, Ashley continued.

"When I had a last name, it was Beauchamp. Ashley _Beauchamp_." She said the name with disgust, shaking her head. "And my father . . . my father was Charles Beauchamp."

And suddenly, swiftly, everything fell into place for Reid.

 _Beauchamp._

 _. . . in the foster-care system . . ._

 _Beauchamp._

 _. . . the way she said her name . . ._

 _Beauchamp –_

"Your father was – ?" Reid couldn't help it, he gaped slightly. How would anyone be able to talk about one of the country's most infamous serial killers without some apprehension, even – he felt a sickened twist in his stomach – awe?

 _The Redmond Ripper._

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he saw the change come over the girls' faces.

Ashley nodded, a bitter expression on her face. "That was him."

Reid looked over at her. "Was?"

None of what he'd read suggested that Charles Beauchamp was a . . .

Ashley shook her head. "He's in prison. For life, obviously. And good damn riddance – "

 _"_ _Ashley_ ," Elle cut in, her voice warning.

"Sorry," Ashley responded, clearly not sorry at all. She turned back to Reid. "I don't consider him a dad anymore; pretty hard to be a father figure if you're locked away and no longer around, right?"

"Right," Reid murmured, thoughts sidetracking briefly to his own MIA parent.

William Reid wasn't in jail – at least, Spencer didn't think he was. How was he supposed to know? They hadn't spoken in years. For all Spencer knew, he could be at his home right now, comforting his poor mother with flowers and asking where their son was. He could be fixing up the leak in the roof that made Spencer so wary of thunderstorms every summer night. He could be –

Reid shook his head, unwilling to think the next thought.

He'd learned long ago the pointlessness of dreams.

"So, you live with your mother now?" He asked, trying to deter his thoughts.

Elle glanced sharply at him, but Ashley just shook her head. "My mother died when I was little. I live by myself these days."

Reid frowned, confused. "Did – did you get legally emancipated? It's really rare for that to happen outside of the age of sixteen, especially considering that Las Vegas statute number – "

"I ran away from home," Ashley cut him off. Seeing Reid's startled expression, the blonde shrugged. "What? Half of the foster parents I went to were barely fit to be _people_ , let alone mommies and daddies." She spat out the words, acid coating every syllable. "After the last good-for-nothing _bastard_ tried to – "

Ashley stopped suddenly, face draining of color, and she shook her head forcible.

"They were shitty places to live, and I do a better job taking care of myself than any of them ever tried."

"But how do you support yourself? No one would hire you without an address, or a number, or an adult to cosign a work form – "

"Look, kid, what I do? You don't need any of those things to get work at night."

Reid looked at Ashley, studying her, and then his eyes flickered to Elle.

 _Oh, no._

"You don't – I m-mean, do you – ?"

"I sell my body for food, kid. Prostitute, whore, corner-banger – you name it, I'll own up to it." Suddenly, the girl's tone had gotten defiant, challenging Reid without saying a word.

"But – b-but you're only fourteen!" Where had that squeak in his voice come from?

Ashley shrugged again. "So? There's a lot of sickos out there that'll pay good money for fuck from a young blonde. And it's not like I was a virgin anymore, anyway. I have to eat."

"But how can you – it's so dangerous!"

Elle raised an eyebrow at the concern in Reid's voice, but Ashley got more defensive as his tone rose.

"Look – Reid, is it? I didn't ask for your opinion, and I sure didn't ask for your judgment. I am who I am, I do what I do, and I _can take care of myself._ Back. _Off."_

Reid stepped back, stunned by the venom in her voice, and his jaw slammed shut.

Ashley took a moment more to glare at the genius, before spinning around and marching forward, anger making her strides longer than before. Elle came up behind Reid, and laid a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. She pushed him forward softly, and Reid stumbled ahead.

* * *

There was an awkward silence over the group for the next few minutes, as they followed Ashley further and further into the bowels of Las Vegas. Only the young blonde seemed to have any idea where she was taking them.

Reid had stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, and searched the ground intently, nose almost buried into the collar of his shirts. Chewing his inner lip, the young genius was so lost in his thoughts that it was some time before he heard anyone else speaking.

In fact, it wasn't until he walked into Ashley – who had come to a sudden and unbidden halt before him – that Reid even looked up.

His small noise of surprise was quickly lost in the sound of Ashley's words.

"This is it," she said softy, staring ahead.

Reid followed her gaze, and felt a coil of dread in his stomach as he did.

The place that Ashly so casually called 'home' was a run-down building with patches of the structure showing through the bricks. Eight stories tall, nearly half of the windows gone, the place had to be over thirty years old – and easily that long abandoned. Moss grew up one side and down the other, with the only free space being a small hole in the wall that was covered with clear tarp.

It made Reid's own home seem like a paradise.

Reid was torn from his appalled astonishment when Ashley began speaking again.

" . . . thanks for the food, though."

Elle smiled, and leaned in to give Ashley a quick, one-armed hug. "That pipsqueak still hanging around you guys?"

"Who, Nathan Harris?" Ashley rolled here eyes. "Please. He stares, but as soon as any of us girls actually tries to talk to him, the guy's outta here. Haven't seen him in weeks." She shook her head bemusedly.

Elle brushed some hair out of her face. "Just makin' sure, kiddo. You know I – "

" _am just checking that you're okay,"_ both girls finished simultaneously. Ashley smirked, and Elle raised an eyebrow, eventually returning the smile.

"Smartass," Ell mumbled.

"Right back at ya," Ashley replied.

Slowly, the blonde turned to face Reid. "Hey, kid."

Reid eyed her warily, and Ashley sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bitten your head off earlier about things. I mean . . . I hate when people jump to conclusions and all that shit and . . . I know ya didn't mean it like that, and, well . . . your concern was kinda sweet. Thanks."

Reid blinked. "I just wanted to – "

A hand on his shoulder cut him off. Ashley stared deep into his eyes, her own flickering with compassion. "I know you did, tiger. But you can't save everyone." She stepped back. "And I don't need saving in the first place. I'm fine."

Reid just looked at her. "Ashley – "

She leaned in, and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Take care, Pretty Boy."

And with that, the blonde turned around, and walked swiftly into the ramshackle building, leaving her two comrades watching after her.

Reid turned to Elle. "She lives there by _herself?"_ He hissed, worry twisting his voice unrecognizably.

Elle shook her head. "Not even. She could, but I told her that I'd make her live with me if she even tried it." She chuckled. "Not a great option, but that's why Ash has roommates. Adam Jackson, and his twin Amanda."

"Is Adam – ?"

"Gay. And his sister wants nothing more than to be his mommy. They're totally insane, but so is everyone on the streets. She's _fine,_ kid." With that, Elle turned on her heel and began to march back in the direction that they came, leaving Reid to scurry behind her.

"How can you say that?" He insisted, scrambling to catch up to the girl in the renewed downpours of rain.

Elle didn't look back. "Say what?"

"That she'll just be okay, that she's _fine_ – "

"It's because she _is,_ kid. She's got a shit-ton of issues, and I won't pretend that she's alright. But Ash _deals_ with her problems. She goes right at them, and fights the best way she knows how. She doesn't _need_ me to protect her, and she doesn't _need_ a savior."

"How can you be so callous about someone you love?" Reid burst out, his voice almost shouting. At last Elle turned to face him, her face thunderous, and voice dangerously low.

"You listen here, Reid, and you listen good, because I'm only going to say this one fucking time: Ashley is, without a doubt, the only person left in my life who I care about like family. She's _it._ And _because_ I care about her, _because_ I _love_ her, I'm trying to keep her happy. She wants to live in that shitty apartment, I'll let her. She wants to sell cheap fucks in order to feed herself, I'll let her. Don't think it doesn't bother the hell outta me, kid, or that I don't want to scoop her up and take her away every time I have to hear a story about some John messing her up. I hate every second of it."

Elle sighed, and Reid could have sworn that he saw her eyes shining with an unshed tear. It was a moment before the girl continued.

"Like I told ya before, Reid; when the going gets tough . . ."

"The tough get going. I'm surprised you're familiar with the expression, Miss Greenaway."

Both kids' heads swiveled around at the new voice, gaping at their intruder.

Before them stood a portly man, much taller than Elle, wearing a comfortable-looking set of jeans and a collared shirt. Though balding, the first thing either of them noticed about his face was his eyes; dark and intense and a peculiar shade of brown, they found the man's stare almost intimidating as he gave them a clearly examining look – the same one Reid and Elle were giving him.

It was the genius who finally spoke first. "Who – ?"

"Reid," Elle cut in, her voice positively acidic, "I believe that Derek and Aaron told you about this man last night." She glared.

"Hello, Gideon."

* * *

 **Author's Endnote:** Uhm . . . plot twist? No excuses, guys, I've been DYING to bring Gideon back, ever since I saw the episode saying he, ya know . . . dies. HAFTA do this, exqueeze me very much. Well, you'll see soon. Until the next chapter!


	9. MaybeI'mJustOutOfMyMind!

**Author's Note:** Well, this almost didn't get updated! I've had the outline of this prepped for a few days, but got totally, completely, 100,000% lost in this little piece I'm writing for a prompt I got sent in, and I forgot all about Chapter Nine until I walked in through the door a few minutes ago! *Smacks head* Bad Grayson, bad bad Grayson!

No excuse, there's a lot of melodrama in the upcoming bit; I've been having a long few days at work, and I might have taken it out a little teensy-tiny bit on Gideon . . . I love the man's memory, but I can't seem to write him as anything less than a bastard, ya know? Apologies to anyone out there who likes the man. It's personal, for me, but it doesn't mean he's not a cool character, or a generally okay guy . . . he just fits the role of a jerk too well in my head-canon, and has been cast accordingly

Also, we're approaching the end, guys. At nine chapters, this fic is already more than twice as long as I thought it was going to be, and the word-count terrifies me. Don't worry, of course . . . there's still plot and story, all of that good stuff . . . But I'm thinking one chapter more, maybe two-ish? The whole point of this fic has been to get Spencer to understand himself and his own problems through the issues and love of others, and get him to a deeper understanding of things about the way the world is and the way _he_ is before becoming the man we all love so much . . . and I think, after some of the everything that's happened so far, he's nearly at that point.

But no guarantees. We'll see. In the meantime, thank you all so much for your patience and enthusiasm. Have another chapter!

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _DarkJediQueen: Just a little curious . . . how on Earth do ya always manage to be the very first person to review a new chapter? Your powers astonish me! LOLz, it makes me very happy that someone else was a bit excited to see the wild Gideon make an appearance. I just recently saw the episode where they talked about his ill fate, and it made me want to give a little stab at writing him, even if he comes off rather OOC, since I *may* have made him just a tiny bit of a bastard in this . . . I think I still have anger issues from the third season, I just cannot help but want to cast the man as a slimy, vainglorious jerk . . . which he is, in shades, but not to the extent I've made him . . . well, you'll see below, anyways. And thank you so, so much, for liking how I've done Ashley. The way people remember her brief stint on CM always bugs the crap outta me, since she was actually pretty cool - at least, I thought so. And, no, I'm not exactly a cheerleader for prostitution, either; but desperate times, when in Rome, et. cetera . .. well, like you said, it is what it is, and is just a component to teh story, not intending to be offensive or derelict in any way. I'm so happy you got tha, truly. And fear not - it's not the last time we're gonna see our favorite second favorite third favorite youngest blonde make an appearance. Watch out for more, and again, thanks for your dedicated readership. Means tons to me, girl._

 _MW3addict: Not gonna lie . . . I totally cried too after that episode. Confused the Hell outta me at the time, since, as I've said, me no likey Gideon, for the most part . . . I think I was more upset about the loss of potential for the man, honestly. Like, now, he can never come back, and see Reid get married or talk to Rossi again . . . *sighs* Such a waste. The only way we can commemorate him now is to write fanfiction about him . . . even if I've gone ahead and made the man a bit of a shit while I was at it . . . I'm sure I'll need a therapist to deal with the anger issues this bloody show has given me, ACK. By the way, you totally made me squee when you caught the Adam/Amanda reference - I almost thought that one was WAAAY too vague for even dedicated readers, and wanted to omit it totally. SO glad I didn't, now, XD. And a lot of people realy seem to be digging my spin on Seaver, which warms my heart, since, ya know . . . I dig the chick. Your comments never fail to make me grin, thanks SO much for the compulsive fangirling; it's good to know you're not alone, LOLz. I hope this next one doesn't disappoint you too much; I'm getting ever more out-of-my-depth as we traipse on the final arc of this story._

 _Girl with a pink flying carpet: AGH, I know the feeling of having to wait. Forgive me for saying how happy I am you're so upset, though . . . at least you like it? Yay? I promise, no more cutting off, though. Only two-ish more chapters to go, and updates within the week, I promise. Sorry to keep you waiting, though, LOLz._

 _RissaGrace17: "Intense" is my middle name! . . . Actually, it's 'Gilian." my parents are, ahm . . . X-Files nerds. XD. You never have to thank me for responding to a review, just so ya know. It always thrills me so much when people take a few moemnts to leave me their thoughts and opinions - and, in case it hasn't been completely obvious by now, I do so love to chatter . . . But, in all seriousness, it's always a please to talk to people - and you, especially, since you always have something interesting to say abut my writing. I know I'm overly-dramatic and far too in love with the idea of whump, and angst in general, but to have a wonderful kindly person alway there encouraging the things I'm putting up, or making thoughtful suggestions about things I could improve upon . . . well, it's reviewers like you who give me the courage to finish the stories I start. So, actually, thank YOU. It's always been a pleasure. And I hope I continue to have you approval for the last few chapters of this, at least. I'd like that._

 _BAUProfileQueen: AUGH, someone else caught the references! I cannot stop grinning now, damn it all. SO, so incredibly glad you liked it, though. Nathan and Adam are two of my favorite secondary characters in the show, and I really, REALLY need to find some more fics with them and Reid and . . . stuff *smut, cough cough* or something. And you need not wait anymore; Chapter Next is here!_

 _Annber03: What really seems horrible to me is that, even though you're right in saying that Ashley has a truly heartbreaking story, I was honestly just . . . delighted . . . to write it that way. I mean, in the show, she's got a real tear-jerker of an origin story, as well. Everyone at the BAU does, now that I think on it . . . Huh. Must be part of the job requirements to work there, or something. *Snickers* But, in all honesty, I couldn't see writing these guys any other way than with lots of trials and tribulations to back up the characters that they've become in the world; they're just . . . better, the worse that they are. I dunno, I dig it. Or something. But I never thought of the effects seeing how seedy his hometown was might have on our favorite genius . . . As if Las Vegas wasn't already intimidating. But . . . home sweet home, am I right? XD. And I really like your analyzation of Ashley/Elle versus Spencer/People In General. I was actually going for a bit of reflection there, with Spencer seeing something of himself in both of the girls; Ashley with her stubbornness to take care of herself, even to detrimental harm, and Elle's reconciliation that to haver her sister in her life to whatever extent was worth all of the problems they encountered. Reid's always reminded em a bit of a volcano, taking in so much and bubbling below the surface, until it all comes exploding out in a fiery wrath. I've always imagined that his childhood was a lot of concentrated pain, and that resulted in him becoming the man that he is now, with the same problems. Typical of all females, of course, I kinda wanna fix my baby boy, and so I thought I might show him the two fighting inner aspects of his relationship. He's doing things that are harmful, but doesn't have the support he truly needs to keep going like this. I'm so glad you caught on to it, because this 'revelation' is going to play a big part in the finale of the story. Reid has to let someone in, ya know? As much as I wish it could be me *woeful sigh*, I'm trying to write a more emotional scene with someone else . . . You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE. "We whump because we care!" *Evil laugh* Thanks for the insight, though. I feel like you see so much in these stories that even I don't always catch; it makes writing them just boatloads of fun, honestly. I do hope you'll be just as satisfied with the next chapter, too. Promises of angst, but happy-ever-after is coming, too!_

 _Purest of the Hearts: Your username, man, I gotta ask . . . Are you the Mother of Dragons? Because having a pure heart is kinda . . . ya know . . . her thing. *Grins* Niiice, though. Thanks so much for taking the time to go back and review so many of the chapters like ya did! That means a lot to an author, and even more to me, since I'm so terrible about doing that myself, ya know. So sweet of you - and thoughtful, too. I will say, your analyzations of the characters are pretty spot on, though. We all know that beneath that skin-melting look of Hotch's is a huge marshmallow . . . And of course Tobias is all fucked up; that's what makes him so much fun, if we apply the philosophy of the Joker to it. XD. And no worried about mixing up Elle and Emily; I used to think that Morgan was genius, and Reid the lady-killer. God, the days before CM became a full-blown obsession. Anyways, all rambling aside . . . Thanks for the reviews! They're always nice to see, and even more so, since you (seem to) like the story. I appreciate your time, and do hope you'll stick through it with the rest of us until the end. *Smiles8_

 _TazzieLuv13: Thanks for the compliment - and here I was thinking that I was the only one left in the world who said 'freaking.' LOLz. And you know me from somewhere? Lord, I hope it's not from RL - I'm a hot mess in most aspects of my day-to-day existence. Annnd, if it's from Youtube . . . we should totally talk Septiplier sometime! *Fangirls compulsively* Glad to have your readership, random citizen! I hope the upcoming angst doesn't turn you away totally, XD._

 _Kas3y: Always nice to hear from you! The suggestions are pretty cool, of course - and obviously, having rough pasts is a huge part of what makes these guys who they are, and probably contributes in no small way to why we adore them so much . . . Though, I am curious as to what more you'd like to see from their respective pasts . . . I tried to give lots of backstories for each of them, but if there was something you thought I needed to add, let me hear it; we're not through here, yet! Though I hope having a glimpse of the future in this is enough to satisfy for now . . . I wanna play with Gideon, too!_

 _silverwrym: Again, with the apologizing! No need, goodness, NO FREAKIN' need! I'm flattered to have any critiques from you at all, be they every chapter or not. Seriously, it's fine — I just love hearing someone else compulsively fangirl over Reid-whump like I do. And you're basically the queen of angst, so . . . s'all good in the hood. I like the way you describe Elle's maternal instincts as 'non-mothering.' LOLz, could you even picture her as a mom? I dunno if I'd be perpetually thrilled, or just completely terrified . . . my bet's on the latter. I like her and Reid together too, though — as you said, she's teaching him things about being tough, and hopefully showing him things about himself that bear closer inspection; the boy's got a lot of internal hurt, and if he doesn't admit to it, how's he ever gonna heal? (Especially since he might need SOMEONE *cough cough* to help him get there along the way) . . . But I can't say more than that We're approaching the end of this story, anyways, even though I wanna cram some more angst in there with Gideon, of course . . . Got some venting to do about THAT man in particular, ya know? And while I don't want to say for certain, I'm not totally sure that Adam, Amanda, Nathan, or Tobias are making any more appearances right now . . . Every character and plot I've introduced in this arc has had a specific part to play in Reid's evolution from scared child to child ready to face the world . . . ish. And once their contribution is made, our darling genius grows and adapts, and becomes more of the man we'll all someday love. Tobias has already scared the shit out of him, and I'm not sure if the others are needed, since all of the central psychological markers I wanted to make have been hit through Elle and Morgan totally taking over the lead roles in this fic . . . but your enthusiasm, as always, amuses me . . . I'll see where this goes. Not too sure, but Gideon *might* be my last asshole to play with, and then we try to be grown-ass people and mature . . . or something. Ugh, I'm rambling. Anyways, thanks a million for the awesome review, as always. Still makes me squee that you like this piece!_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

 _Maybe I'm Just Out Of My Mind_

* * *

"Hello, Elle," Jason Gideon said, the words flowing with pleasantry as insincere as the younger brunette's. "Good to see you up and about again."

"I'm sure," Elle snorted, staring at the man with unabashed dislike.

"No, really," Jason pressed, taking a step closer to the duo. "I like to see that you're still . . . making your way around." On that, his eyes flickered briefly to the house where Ashley had just left them, and then landed on Reid. "Who's your friend?" he asked taking another step forward.

Elle stepped in front of Reid, her posture tensed and wary, fists clenched at her sides. "He's no one," she spat out, warning in every tone of her voice.

Jason blinked, and then smiled, shaking his head. "I highly doubt that, sweetheart."

" _Don't_ call me that," Elle hissed, shoulders hunching. " _You_ don't _get_ to call me that."

"Duly noted," the older man said, deftly stepping around her. He approached Reid again, sticking out his hand. "Hey, kid. My name's Jason."

His hand reached out, surely to shake Reid's hand or clap his shoulder or something equally non-threatening, but Reid reacted instantly, flinching back like he was about to be attacked.

Jason frowned and leaned back, withdrawing his hand. "Skittish one," he murmured, eyes appraising Reid in a way that made the genius entirely too uncomfortable.

Despite his wariness at being studied the way he was, Reid instantly relaxed more when the other man had pulled away, and the possibility of personal contact heavily reduced. He said nothing, however, merely continuing to stare at the man who the group had spoken of which such passioned anger.

Elle, meanwhile, darted sideways, again planting herself between the genius and the chief of police. "He's no one, _Gideon._ "

"Hmm," Gideon murmured, eying Reid with that penetrating gaze. "Clearly not. How old are you, son?"

Reid opened his mouth to talk, but Elle again beat him to it.

"He's old enough to be alive, and obviously younger than you," she spat out, contempt in every bit of her voice.

Jason didn't get angry at her insolence, like Reid would have thought. Instead, he smiled – almost as if he were amused by the spitfire with which he was faced.

"As are many people, Miss Greenaway, as are many people; but of course, that's really neither here nor there," he stated, turning his attention back to Reid with a small smile that might have been comforting under other circumstances. "C'mon, kid, talk to me; are you okay?"

Reid swallowed tightly, trying to dig around in the deepest parts of himself for some kind of unbidden courage. This a make-or-break moment, the defining seconds in which he could either tell this strangely inviting man all about his weekend thusfar, and reveal his status as a lost child and put himself at the mercy of the adults who had so often failed him; or he could omit every sentence, and continue once more on the path he'd started ever since he acknowledged Derek's greeting in the rain . . .

God, had it really only been yesterday?

Reid blinked, staring into the kindly brown eyes, almost tempted to ask this man to take him away from the cold and confusion, to pull him back from whatever edge he was standing on and give him rescue from all of the uncertainties.

And, at the same time, Reid wanted to react the way he always did when confronted with something that frightened or overpowered him; distract, run, hide, and lick his wounds somewhere where no one else could see, where no one else could _know._

"Son?"

The word broke through the haze in his mind, stinging sharply as Reid realized that Jason and Elle were still regarding him openly, looks of concern all around.

He gulped, and spoke so quietly that his words almost couldn't be heard in the rain pouring around them.

"I'm f-fine."

Elle narrowed her eyebrows, not saying a word as she reevaluated the boy before her; Jason, however, shook his head.

"Now, I'm sure that's not true, kid. You're standing here, late on a _Saturday_ , in the freezing rain with a girl who's got trouble pouring out her ears, shivering and telling me you're _fine?"_ Jason shook his head. "I've been at this job much to long to believe that, kid."

"Well, believe it," Reid countered, staring the man straight in the eye. "Elle – my _f-friend_ – was just walking me home."

Jason raised one eyebrow. "In the rain?" he asked delicately.

Reid bit his inner cheek, fighting to keep his composure. "Yes," he ground out.

"We can't really control the weather, Gideon," Elle cut in, glaring still at the older man before them.

Jason merely shrugged. "I didn't mean to offend," he offered in what should have been a placatory tone, but just came off as condescending to the two adolescents. He glanced between them, taking in their stiff postures, and finally realized how aggressive his close stance must seem, and how unwanted the contact. His many years of police service had given Jason Gideon a sort of instinct for people, and right then, his gut was telling him to _back off._

Just like Elle would have.

His expression never changing, Jason shifted back slightly, lowering his hand to his side and marveling at the change that overcame Elle and the boy she was with as he did so; the way their expressions went from hostile to curious, how their shoulders relaxed and Elle's glare lightened minutely, though she still stood in front of the kid as though to guard him.

As if Jason was some sort of _danger_?

The thought churned his stomach, but the senior officer never gave a hint of it on his face. Instead, he continued to meet both burning gazes, trying to decide what would be the best way to proceed.

"I'm looking for someone," he started calmly.

Elle continued glare, and the kid continued to stare, but neither one made any sort of reaction to his statement. Jason continued.

"His name is Spencer Reid."

* * *

It wouldn't have taken a sharper mind to notice the way Elle's already stiff posture tightened even more, or how the kid behind her blanched milky white in seconds. Jason nodded to himself. "I figured, Elle, with your connections – "

"That you might be able to come and _use me_ to get another step further in your career?" Elle snarled. "Sorry, Gideon – didn't we already have a conversation like this?"

Jason breathed slowly, his voice infuriatingly calm when he spoke.

"I'm asking for help finding a _missing child,_ Miss. Greenaway. This is not about ulterior motives."

Elle's scowl darkened. "Bite me."

Jason shook his head, and wisely chose not to comment. Instead, he turned to Elle's companion, and looked him over. "What about you?"

Reid jolted, and looked up , wariness written clearly in ever line of his face. "W-What?"

"You look about the right age – did you know a kid named Spencer Reid?"

God, even his _teeth_ were shaking. Reid could do nothing but shake his head, biting his inner cheek so hard that he could taste blood.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "He's young, too. Apparently, there was some run-in or something at the high-school yesterday afternoon, so one of the janitors reported. A fight with the football team?"

Reid's face grew even paler, and Jason watched interestedly as he continued.

"He was reported missing yesterday by his mother, and we've been trying to locate him . . ."

* * *

 _Reported missing by his mother._

 _His mother._

 _My mom?_

It was taking all of Reid's self-control not to sink into the ground at those words.

His mother had contacted the police? Diana Reid, unrecognized literary genius and a woman with a genuinely good heart in spite of her waning mental health, had been lucid for long enough to call the police?

Deep down, some part of Spencer was furious that he has missed whatever precious moments of reality that Diana had been able to recognize. They were so few, and further and further between as time wore on.

And below that level of longing, there was fright.

Ever since his father had walked out on them, Reid had tried his very hardest to ensure that he and his mother were well-taken-care-of, fed and clean and with all of the bills paid in full and on time. It wasn't easy or pleasant, but Reid took comfort in the fact that it was necessary to ensure their survival, and wouldn't be that way forever.

However, one of the most intricate parts of their routine was that there was _zero contact with the police._

Even a phone call could ruin everything. And even in knowing that, in being lucid enough to realize that her son was gone, Diana Reid had _still_ contacted them . . .

And now, below that ever-present terror of being found out, there was guilt. Wave after wave of cramping, freezing guilty conscience that nearly took the young genius's breath away.

Here he was, roaming around the lowest area of Vegas with a girl he barely knew, complaining about how things in his life were, when his mother was at home, kneading her hands and most likely terrified about what had happened to the one person left in her life that really cared about her.

The self-loathing was growing, and Reid knew he had to do something to make all of it right again.

He stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak. "I'm – "

Elle slapped a hand on his should, gripping his collarbone in a painful way and halting Reid completely in both body and voice.

He stared at her, his shock nearly blocking out the sound of Jason's voice.

"What was that, kid?"

"Nothing." Elle spat out before Reid could utter a single word.

Both man and boy stared at her, before Jason tried again. "Kid? What's up?"

His voice was very soft, very gentle, and yet somehow still commanding enough that Reid felt compelled to answer. He looked Jason up and down, searching for something – what, he wasn't sure.

He never got to find out; as soon as the young genius opened his mouth once more, Elle squeezed his neck.

Hard.

Reid gave a small yelp of surprise, and Jason's probing gaze was once more on him.

"Kid?" he tried again, taking just one step closer.

It was one too many.

Suddenly, Elle's hands were no longer on Reid's person, as the steely grip on his neck released and she leapt forward, shoving Jason back so hard that he stumbled on the balls of his feet. His small _oomf!_ of surprise was drowned out by Reid yelling.

"What are you _doing?!"_

"Reid," Elle gritted out through clenched jaw, "Get out of here."

"But – "

She turned to face him, eyes glittering dangerously. " _Now_. Turn around. _Run._ As fast as you can. I'll meet you where we were before."

 _Where we were –_

Understanding clicked in his head, and Reid nodded. "Why – ?"

 _"_ _Go,"_ she hissed, pushing his shoulders away.

Only from experience was Reid able to catch himself before he landed on the cement ground, and he turned back, looking at Elle.

Her face was twisted unrecognizably, layers of anger and exhaustion not quite extinguishing the compassion that shone faintly in the flutter of her eyelashes, the quiver of her lips . . . Every inch of the brunette's beauty was warped by fear – though of what, Reid wasn't really sure.

All he did know was what Elle screamed at him on last time before turning to face the figure of Jason Gideon, slowly climbing back to his feet behind her.

 _Run!_

So Reid ran.

* * *

With no watch, it was hard to tell just how much time had passed since the rain had started to fall again.

It began with little droplets, fat spikes of water that splashed on the ground and soaked through layers in a most pleasant way, slowly wetting the world down like a collage of the English countryside.

Gradually though, as things will do, it turned sour.

Now the rain came down in sharp, stabbing rivulets of bone-chilling coldness, every hit of the water on cheeks burning and freezing in exactly the same way.

Reid shivered and curled more tightly in on himself, wishing once more that he had anything else than a slicker to protect him from the chill.

He sat by the line of carts outside of the supermarket where he and Elle had been shopping only that morning, using the thick barriers of metal and plastic to give him some shielding from the rain and wind.

Not to much avail; he was still cold.

But the solitude had given Reid plenty of time to think in peace. The stabs of guilt he felt over leaving his mother alone and lucid but confused had somewhat begun to ebb away, but his resolution had not. Somehow or other, Spencer Reid intended to return home as quickly as possible.

However, for all of his intelligence, the boy still wasn't sure just exactly where in Vegas he was; hence his waiting for Elle to return so he could ask her.

And possibly not just for directions. Reid had plenty of other questions that needed answering from the brunette.

"Get a little lost, did we?"

The voice was in his ear so suddenly that Reid jumped, whipping his head around with eyes as wide as saucers.

Elle smiled a tired smile, and settled down in next to him. "Relax, kid, it's just me." She gave him a shrewd onceover, and then slipped her coat out from under her poncho, wrapping it over his shivering shoulders. "God, you're freezing."

Reid said nothing, merely continuing to stare at her, overcome by simultaneous waves of relief and confusion as he took in Elle's own shaking form.

"What happened?" he asked, hating the way his voice quavered.

Elle continued to tuck the fabric around his thin shoulders. "Nothing much," she said, her voice more casual than seemed appropriate. "We had some . . . words, and I got him to back off. Then I came here."

Reid frowned. "That's not all of it," he said.

Elle shrugged. "That's all of it that concerns you, kid."

Reid shook his head. "No, it's _not,"_ he stated, drawing away from Elle slightly, and looking her hard in the eyes. "It's _not_ all, not when you reacted like that – kicking me away and making me wait. There's more to it than that, Elle."

"Not really," Elle said, looking at the ground.

"Yes, really," Reid insisted, a trace of anger leaking into his voice. "Tell me."

"Kid – "

"Please," Reid said quietly, his voice cracking.

Elle mustered him for a long moment, pursing her lips. And then, finally, reluctantly, she spoke.

"You're declared missing, kid. Under eighteen and after four hours, that's some tough shit – especially in Vegas, especially this time of year." She paused, watching Reid shift slightly, before attempting to speak more gently. "But when you're some sort of child prodigy who had a big fight before up and leaving his single mother by himself, it becomes even _bigger_ shit. If Jason knew who you were, he would have taken you to the office and paraded you around a bit while he pushed some papers around on his desk. Once he got the congratulations from some higher-ups, he would have taken you to your place, and made sure that your mother knew how _lucky_ she was that you had been found – and in no small part by _him_ , Jason Gideon."

Elle's voice became bitter as she spoke on, and Reid shifted uncomfortably next to her.

"There would have been a press conference, of course, in which Gideon would have reassured the entire city that the hunt for the missing Spencer Reid was off, because _he_ had found you. You might be there or not, but either way, the story would be a goldmine, and that baby would run for weeks on the TV. There might be an interview or article or two, and you might or might not be told to speak. But your picture would be there, for sure – you're young and vulnerable, and that sells more than anything else in the world."

Elle sighed. "Of course, fame is a fickle food upon an ever-changing plate, so this would all die down, eventually. People would forget, move on – for the most part. But you wouldn't – and neither would Gideon. Someday, if that fucker decided to write a book, you'd be in there somewhere. Of course. And the internet is forever – all you'd have to do is type in the name 'Spencer Reid,' and this whole mess starts up right again. It never really dies, it's never over, and – " suddenly, Elle cut herself off as she made a slight choking sound, blinking rapidly.

Reid awkwardly laid a hand on her back, trying to think of something to say, and Elle shook her head, trying to get control of herself. She shuddered slightly, and pulled her face out of her palms long enough to give Reid a penetrating stare. He tried to look away from it, but the eyes held him firmly, unrelenting as they evaluated the boy before them.

"I couldn't let that happen to you, kid."

Reid blinked, biting his lip. "You . . . You were trying to protect me?"

It was supposed to be a statement, but came out like a question. He couldn't help it – the idea of someone going out of their way to _avoid_ causing him pain was . . .

. . . foreign.

Elle quirked up one corner of her mouth in what might have been a smile. "Maybe just a little bit, kid. What can I say? You've grown on me."

Reid tried to smile back, but a thought occurred to him, interrupting the moment. He looked once more straight into those gazing eyes. "Why?"

"Hmm?" Elle glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

Reid cleared his throat. "Why – w-why did you do it?"

"Because . . ." Elle frowned slightly. "Because I've been through something similar, and I didn't want you to have to suffer it, too. It was hard enough for _me_ to handle."

Reid scowled. "Are you saying that _I_ couldn't?"

"Now, hold on just a sec – "

"No, _you_ hold on!" Reid burst out, climbing to his feet and standing in front of the girl, almost towering in his position. But his flare of temper had him oblivious to the structure and change of power – all he knew was what he wanted to say.

"I _know_ that I'm skinny and small and not the least bit physically imposing, and I _know_ that I'm quiet, and I _know_ that I'm _a loner_ – but putting all of those things together does _not_ make me some sort of – of _weakling_ who needs protection from the entire world. I am _not_ sheltered, I am _not_ unrealistic, and _I am not weak._ ** _"_**

Reid finished, chest heaving on the last word, blinking furiously to stop something as ridiculous as tears ruining the point he was trying to make.

Elle's eyes never left his. "I didn't say any of that, kid. Ever."

"It's always implied – always there," Reid mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Elle responded.

"I'm not some damsel-in-distress." Reid was really talking more to himself then, folding himself back resignedly onto the curb next to Elle. "I don't need saving from the bad guys."

Elle blinked. "Jason Gideon is _not_ a bad guy."

Reid locked gazes with her. _"What?"_

Elle winced, pursing her lips as she suddenly became very interested in he cracked, wet pavement. "Gideon," she started, her voice low. "He's . . . He's not a _bad guy._ "

"You just said – "

"I _know_ what I said," she spat out. "He's . . . he's _not_ a bad guy. He's not a _good_ guy, but . . . " She searched for the right word.

"But . . ." Reid prodded.

"He's a _selfish_ guy." Elle sighed as she said the words, the rush of air mingling with the disappointment in her voice. "He doesn't _think._ Doesn't really realize; he wasn't to be a hero, and he's so determined to _win_ that he's become blind to how what he does affects the rest of us out here, how we're being destroyed in his insane pursuit of power."

The scornful look was no longer anywhere to be found on the brunette's face, and she ran her hand through her hair balefully. "He's not doing it to be vindictive. Jason Gideon is a single-minded, one-tracked, tunnel-visioned little shit; but he's not _bad._ "

Reid looked at her. "You still care about him."

As Elle opened her mouth to protest, he rectified, "At least, you don't hate him as much as all of the other guys say."

Elle shook her head. "I know what they think of him, and of me – and me and him together, especially. They're not wrong. They're just . . . also not entirely right."

Saying it, Elle deflated before him, and suddenly, though she _was_ older, right then the two of them almost seemed the same age.

Both young; both older than their time.

And both so damn confused.

A few long moments passed, and eventually, Reid spoke, his voice tentative.

"Do you remember what you said to me earlier?"

Elle frowned, confused. " . . . I said a lotta things, kid. You're gonna hafta be a bit more specific."

Reid cleared his throat. "I – I m-mean about how you said that we're all scared . . . way deep down inside, every single one of us is?"

Elle studied him, something unreadable crossing her eyes. " . . . Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"W-well, it's just – just – " Reid floundered about for the right word, cheeks growing red as Elle watching him, trying and failing to hide the amusement in her expression.

He attempted to speak once more, only to find himself similarly tongue-twisted, and limply the genius hung his head, utterly humiliated.

At last taking mercy on his poor, stuttering self, Elle leaned in and gently placed a hand on Reid's thin shoulder.

"Let's go, kid."

* * *

"You were right."

It was the first sound to break the silence in nearly half an hour, and despite the pride she took in her usually collected demeanor, Elle jumped a little bit. Startled, she glanced over at Reid.

The genius still wasn't attempting to make eye contact through the wind and rain, and spoke to the ground.

"I _am_ scared. A-always have been." He blinked, unseen as he tried to force back those stupid tears that kept trying to come.

"I feel like I always will be."

Her hand wrapped gently along his shoulder, thumb tracing soothing circles over his bony blades. "That's not true, kid."

Reid blinked. "It is – I f-feel like it's never going to end. Like even though I might talk and try to put on some sort of pseudo face of courage, I'm always going to be terrified of other people; always looking for the final countdown, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"But you _won't,_ kid." Elle's hand tightened briefly, and then relaxed as the elder thought through her words.

"Life . . . Life is scary, Reid. And confusing. Fucking _hard._ I'm not a bullshitter, I won't lie to you about that. You get me?"

She waited until the genius nodded minutely, and continued, "But _nothing_ is insurmountable, kid. _Nothing._ You're going to wake up one day, and there's going to be this comfort in your body, a warm twist of knowing who you are that replaces that boulder of dread that usually sits there. It's going to be this . . . " she drifted off, staring into the thunder rolling in the distance before swallowing tightly.

"It'll be your guiding light. Something that takes you by the hand, wakes you up in the morning and lets you sleep at night. Something warm. Something that knocks through all of the walls and doubts from your mind, and allows you to move on – to grow. No limits, just epiphanies."

The genius blinked. "It's not that simple," he whispered, voice barely audible over the hissing of the rain.

Elle smiled sadly. "Is it ever?"

"It won't happen for me," Reid murmured, his listless tone scaring the girl more than anything else that had happened since meeting this soggy, quiet flip of a kid.

"It will for everyone. I've seen it."

Reid shook his head, wet curls covering the pain in his eyes. "I'm not everyone." His voice choked, and the words twisted hideously in the air.

"I'm no one."

His small flinch was almost undetectable as Elle grasped his hand.

Almost.

"I told you once, kid; _nothing_ is in your control. Life is . . . unfair. Fine, it is. Really and truly. But there's nothing you can do about that – you're not a God, and superheroes aren't real." She could feel the small frame in her grasp deflating, and fought harder.

"But _you_ are, kid. You're here, right now, and that's something miraculous. It's beautiful, and it's _life,_ and _that_ is worth living. Always, forever and ever. It's not easy, but nothing worth having is easy – and no matter what, things get better." She squeezed his hands, hating every cliché that poured from her mouth, but not knowing any other way to say what she had to say.

 _Now or never at all._

"I know that . . . I know that I don't know you. I may never – not fully. But even if I don't – if our first time together is our last, or our next never is – if I never again get to see you, speak with you, laugh with you, cry with you . . . or kiss you . . ." She swallowed tightly. "But I'm with you, kid. With all my heart – I'm _with you."_

Reid stared at her, letting the void between them stretch.

After a long, agonizing few thuds of her heartbeat, Elle released her grip on the genius, and they began their slow steps again.

Never had such loud silence reigned as the two picked their way over building mounds of gravel and debris, ever-so-slowly approaching the bridge. But it was only just as the rusting guardrails came into view that Reid stopped, letting Elle take a few steps ahead of him before speaking.

"How do you know?"

She stopped, resigned by the sound of his voice, too tentative, too afraid.

Always so _afraid._

She spoke without turning around. "How do I know, kid?"

"Yes." The word was small, soft-spoken. "How do you know that it'll stop, one day?"

She gave a small chuckle. "Kid, I don't know if anything ever _stops._ Life is an ever-continuing thing, ya know." She looked over at Reid, the genius meeting her eyes with a burning curiosity, almost a sense of desperation.

It did her in completely. She reached over, brushing a hand against his cheek.

"Someday, little Spencer . . . someday your life will really _begin._ _That_ much," she whispered, "I _know._ "

Reid gazed at her, lower lip trembling. " . . . How?" he whispered.

One corner of Elle's mouth tugged up in a smile. "Because I lived through it myself, kid. It's wonderful."

With that, she spun on her heel, and pressed on under the bridge, turning for only a second to call over her shoulder, "Coming?"

After a few long moments, Reid followed.


	10. I Don't Know Who You Are, But

**Author's Note:** The mind boggles at the sheer amount of clarified butter that one chick can make at work . . . but then, kids gotta eat, right? Yech . . . I smell like the movie theaters.

Anyways . . . Decision is made; one more chapter after this, guys. Originally, this was going to be the last one (how I _love_ the idea of wrapping up a story on Chapter 10!) but it's been a really rough week, and when I was poking the muse, she was having none of it. It makes this chapter filler, but it's been more than a week since the last update, and I don't wanna be a hypocrite. Swearsies, the next chapter will be full of meat, and within seven days this time. I still really, _really_ want to eek it out . . . Just a matter of sitting my bum down for more than eight minutes at a time and actually Shia Lebouff'ing it. JUST DO IT. (Plus, not gonna lie, after seeing the premiere of _Heroes Reborn_ this weekend, I am SO wanting to write some more of my _Criminal Heroes_ 'verse dedicated to our fallen cheerleader . . . but if that comes to fruition, it won't get in the way of finishing this fic, I promise!)

LOLz. It's past midnight. I think I'll take that as my cue to quieten, and go to bed. As always, thank you all for your wonderful readership. It means as much to me as actually writing this bloody thing. Thanks, you guys. *Smiles*

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _DarkJediQueen: As always, your review makes me glow - thanks for the kind words! I'm actually really loving having Elle play BAMF!BigSister to Spencer, as well, and it makes writing this go more and more smoothly, just thinking about the two of them; that being said, I hope you'll forgive her exit stage-left in this chapter . . . there's a relationship in need of mending between a certain genius and a, ah, 'douchebag' from earlier . . . But I hope you'll enjoy whatever's left of the story, too. I'm so glad you've stuck with it!_

 _BAUProfileQueen: Oh, the enthusiasm! Ya make me wanna shout, kick my heels up and SHOUT . . . or something slightly less nerdly, LOLz. Thanks for the wonderful words - it's always nice to hear that a story garners such a reaction from a wonderful reader like yourself, m'dear . . ._

 _TazzieLuv13: Nice analogy . . . I'll have to remember things I can describe as more limp or flimsy than a wet noodle *Grins evilly*. But I'm sorry you're missing out on Youtube - I worship the ground that some of those entertainers walk on . . . and then promptly slash the Hell out of them. Probz not a healthy addiction, but there's not much else to do in Missouri, besides Internet and school. And even though I've done some events, I severely doubt that anything I've eeked out has made it half as far as New York. *Sighs* Still, talking would be excellent - ya seem so nice! I'm on here more than is healthy, I fear . . . or, if you'd rather, we can connect on Facebook, I'll message the info over whenever . . . Thanks for the kind words and attention, though. I thrive on both. XD_

 _Annber03: Not gonna lie, it was Elle's big speech that had me SO sweating over posting this chapter. I wrote that scene whilst watching "V For Vendetta," and part of Valerie's big speech upon her death includes the phrase, "Even if I never get to meet with you, laugh with you, cry with you, love you, or kiss you . . ." And I dunno, the feelz just overwhelmed me; it's one of my favorite movies of all time, and somehow, I could picture Elle saying it like that too. She's so much like Reid, very little implication of her inner emotions, but when they come out . .. Holy shit, it's moving. Like you said . . . Cliche-ish, but those are usually the most honest things too, eh? And yes, yes, SO MUCH YES on your analyzations of Elle; yeah, she seems liek the kind to misconstrue any movement as potentially threatening, harmful . . . She's like a cat, suspicious and strong and angry and gorgeous, always on the prowl. I think it's mostly instinctive, although we cannot deny the roughness of the poor woman's past; we all remember her harsh, if tender for HER - treatment of all of the BAU on the show. Elle's a rough one, and it's been ever so much fun to write her in this. And, yeah, she's done her part for now, and Reid has to move on . . . but he'll totally remember her forever, in his own way. I think he still does on the show, too - headcanon accepted, as you say! XD. But Reid has promises to keep, and miles to go before he sleeps . . . or something like that. I'm not sure . . . But we'll be with him to the bitter end, right? (Whole point of the fic/title, *waggles eyebrows*). But I love that you still get so much of what this is about; we're practically of the same mind. God help the world. LOLz._

 _MW3Addict: I'll admit, I was CRAZY nervous about bashing Gideon so much . . . I mean, I care not for the guy, but I was so scared people were going to see my portrayal of the man as unfair, or even downright slimy and wrong . . . but the reassurance means a lot to me, so thank you for that. I hate bastardizing a *semi*decent person like Gideon, but it was necessary to finalize the evolution of the relationship betwixt Elle and Spencer . . . and thus, of Spencer himself. Now, i think we've managed to open the genius's eyes to the world a little more to the ways of himself and the world, and the healing process can begin . .. starting with a little Derek Morgan, of course. And we''ll go from there. Thank you so, SO much for taking the time to leave your comments, though. I really adore that people understand what I'm trying to do . . . and that they like it, too. It makes me smile._

 _Sue1313: Aww, thank you so much for putting it like that! I know my portrayal of Gideon was dark, easily, but . . . maybe the man is too, a little bit. And I'd rather do 'right by him' and y'all then try to appeal to the man's fans and write him as something, someone he's just NOT. The same way I tried to draw on Elle's maternal side; the damn witch has one, even if she's sooooo comfortable pretending to be evil all the time. I think she'd be more of a comfort to Spencer after Tobias, had Elle still been around; and with regard to his mother too, for that matter. And, many apologies, but Diana isn't going to appear in this story. I'm still sticking with cannon about her being ill and withdrawing from the world, and, yeah, that's a big part of who Reid is . . . but this story is just about Spencer, and his life._

 _Kas3y: Hey, I didn't mean to step out of line with my response either, shug. I tend to scramble these things off on my iPod just before I post a new chapter, so I'm on that curious buzz of excitement at a new update, relief at being finished, and dreaded nerves over the response to come. Truly, I DO appreciate the suggestions, since a lot of the time, I draw inspiration from the reviews, and my stories never wind up sticking to the tracks I've laid out for them originally. And I did like yours quite bit; only problem was, as we enter the final acts of this story, i had no idea how to work it into there naturally, or well . . . and I take pride in executing my stories to the very best of my ability. So, thank you again; you're always too kind with the sage advice, and I really do hope I can find a way to use your idea in my next story . . . since that'll probably be about Spencer, too. Aren't they all? XD_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 _I Don't Know Who You Are, But . . ._

* * *

It shook Reid to his core more than he would ever admit to return to the bridge. The darkness ebbed away in front of him, and the sound of rain crashing all around lent a sinister-sounding echo to the cavernous room.

He hated the dark, the unidentifiable blackness perpetuated by the seemingly endless sounds and noises of things that went bump in the night . . . hated it even more knowing that he would be met with confrontation as soon as he arrived under.

And for a moment, just under the lips of the bridge, the young genius stood stock-still, collecting his thoughts and tugging at random strings of courage, hoping that just one of them would be enough to keep him going.

But it wasn't the ever-present chiding thoughts that scolded him to be _brave, better, faster, stronger_ in his father's voice that inspired such heartache and resentment within him. It wasn't the gentle nudging of his mother's whispered encouragements and tokens of love skating across his neck. It wasn't the memory of his enemies, or desire for his friends. It wasn't even him.

Out of the pitch-blackness, warm fingers found their way down his arm, and tightly grasped his quivering hand.

Reid jerked, and looked over, hesitantly meeting what he was barely able to make out of Elle's eyes in the din. They glimmered, bits of light from the far-off bonfires flickering over her face, making the harsh lines and deep scowls seem somehow softer, less threatening . . .

. . . more kind.

Reid gulped, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in.

"Thank you," he breathed.

A small squeeze of his palm acknowledged his gratitude, and, more gently than she ever seemed capable of, Elle tugged them forward.

* * *

"It wasn't his responsibility – "

"Responsibility and _humanity_ are very different, entirely _related_ things, Derek Morgan – "

"People say things they don't mean in anger all the time, Pen, it doesn't make him – "

"An asshole? Yeah, it kinda does – "

"It does not!"

"What would you know about – "

" – at least am impartial – "

" – doesn't even exist, _especially_ not in this case –"

It had been a cul-de-sac of whirling words, belated anger, and fistfuls of hurtful things flung around from one person to the next for over _an hour._

And even if that genius kid wasn't exactly here to correct him about its improbability, Derek was pretty sure his head was going to explode with any more of this ridiculousness.

Well, at least ridiculousness that was _none_ of _their business._

"Would you all," he hissed, rubbing his temples in a futile effort to stifle the oncoming headache, " _shut up?"_

. . . Well, the instant quiet that followed was a _bit_ better.

More nervous than he ever would have cared to admit, Derek peeked through his fingers, warily taking in the temperament of the crowd surrounding him.

 _Crowd_ was a relative term. In all actuality, there were only three people; Penelope, JJ, and Aaron. Of course, the number seemed far more intimidating when one took into consideration that all three were equally pissed at him right about then.

Penelope glared. "Nice talk, Der. You should have saved some of that for Spencer."

Aaron raised his eyebrow. "Garcia, that doesn't make any sense. You can't just keep tossing out cruel things and hoping one of them will stick."

"And why not?" Penelope whirled around to face him. "You didn't see the look on that kid's face, Aaron. He was _crushed_. Somehow or other, Derek managed to convince him to tell him something so personal, and then _you,"_ she turned back to Derek, poking a painted fingernail into his chest, " _you_ used something very clearly painful in a vicious attack against a sweet little boy."

Derek ignored the familiar rush of guilt that twisted his stomach every time someone mentioned the Pretty Boy. "Hey, it wasn't exactly an unmitigated _attack_ , Pen! All I was trying to do was ask the kid where he'd been – "

"Bullshit," Penelope interrupted, silencing the group with her uncharacteristic show of foul language.

Derek picked up his jaw off the floor. "What?"

"You heard me," Penelope insisted. "Bull _shit_. I was there, remember? You started in on the kid right from the beginning."

"He was with – !"

"Elle and Tobias? I know, Derek, _I know._ They're not my two favorite people in the world, either. But judging someone for the company they keep? _Really?_ I mean, you can't tell me that you _never_ experienced someone hating on you because you're bl– "

"That's _enough,_ " Derek hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. Instinctively, he reached out a clenched hand, as if to grab Garcia and shake the silliness out of his girlfriend, but instantly stopped himself and ran his fingers instead over his smooth-shaven head. He sucked in a huge breath, and when he next made eye-contact with Penelope, it was with far clearer vision, and a lower, calmer tone.

"I _know_ , too, Pen. I know it's not fair, and that I shouldn't even be _thinking_ these things, but . . ." he pressed his lips together in a thin, white line, "I don't _like_ Tobias. And I don't _trust_ Elle all the time. Not with someone like Reid." He swallowed. "The kid's so _vulnerable_. So quiet, and shrewd – and shy, fucking _shy_. He shouldn't be around people who could hurt him – and a lot of them can, and a lot of them probably will."

He sat down with a rush of air, and cradled his forehead between two of his fingers. After a moment, Penelope sat beside him, rubbing her hand in small circles over his shoulder.

"It's not fair," he cracked out, voice muffled and saddened.

Penelope bit her lower lip. "I know it's not, tiger. Nothing ever really is . . ."

Derek laughed, a small, bitter cough that didn't sound right in him. "Specially not for some twelve-year-old pipe-cleaner of a genius. I mean, Jesus . . ."

Penelope nodded. "You were just trying to protect him?"

"Well, someone should!" Derek snapped.

Penelope pursed her lips, watching the man she loved as he shook getting himself under control. "I know, honey. I know. And I get where you're coming from now, I _swear_ I do."

" . . . But?" Derek mumbled.

" _But,_ you hurt him too. Badly. You said yourself that the kid's not one to trust easily, and yet somehow, you manage to win him over with that sweet voice and that angelic smile — like you always do . . . and then, for him to see you, to _hear_ you, throw something back on him that he confided in you, for someone he went out on a limb to trust to hurt him in the worst way possible . . . Well, Derek, face facts. You fucked things up. _Badly._ "

"But I want to fix them," Derek insisted. "I don't want to lose the kid over this — _that's_ how much I care, Pen."

"Then tell him that. Show him. _Apologize._ "

Derek frowned. "How am I supposed to do that when he's been MIA all day?"

"Because he's I-A right _now,"_ a voice spoke from behind him.

* * *

Both JJ and Aaron jumped at the sudden intrusion, while Penelope just smiled at Elle's appearance. The only sign of Derek's surprise was a very slight widening of his eyes. They all turned at once to see the beautiful, if soaked, brunette standing just outside of their little circle, and unreadable smile on her face as she crossed her arms and studied them all calculatingly.

"Glad to see we were so well-missed," she drawled, folding her long legs beneath her and sitting next to Penelope.

"Where's Reid?" Derek immediately asked, searching around for her missing counterpart.

Elle raised an eyebrow. "He's fine and dandy. As am I, thanks for asking."

Derek growled. "Anderson _said_ he went off with you. Obviously, he's not here now. And I'm not _fucking_ playing. _Where is he?"_

Elle brushed her curly hair over her shoulder, the strands glistening in the firelight as she began to twist the locks into a ponytail. "Relax, _papi_ , I didn't kill him or nothing. He's back at my tent — _with_ Anderson, I might add — getting his things ready. I'm taking him home."

"Home?" Derek couldn't help it. His voice was incredulous.

"Yeah," Elle frowned slightly. _"Home?_ As in, where he lives? With his mom?"

"I know what it _is,_ " Derek spat out. "What I'm wondering is — why now?"

"The storm's gettin' worse, and I don't wanna deliver him back soaked to the bone." Elle's voice was casual as she squeezed water from he damp clothes.

For a moment, Derek stared at her, trying to comprehend . . . and then he rose. "Elle — let me take him back."

The brunette raised her eyebrow at him. "What?"

" _Me,_ " Derek insisted, impatient. "Let _me_ take him home."

"And, praytell, _why_ would I do something like that?"

Derek sighed in frustration, running a hand over his shaven head once more. "We need to talk — _bad_. And if you take him home, then he's going to be gone, still thinking I meant the things I said to him."

Elle squinted. "Didn't you?"  
"No." Derek shook his head desperately. "No, I didn't — I just lost my temper, got so fucking _stupid_ — but I didn't mean to say what I did — "

"And now he's hurting because of it," Elle finished, contempt level in her voice. "Sorry, Der, no dice. Kid's been screwed with pretty bad. I'm not making him go through more before I throw him back into the lions' den."

She turned around, picking up her soaked coat, only to drop it when Derek grabbed her upper arms forcefully, and swung her around face-to-face, growling.

"Damn it, Elle, _I need this_. If he leaves without talking to me, then he's never going to know — !"

"Know _what_?" Elle spat out, jerking in his harsh grip, to no avail.

Derek leaned in, desperation glinting in his eyes. "He'll never know that I care about him."

Elle forced her head back, meeting those black eyes directly. "You care?"

The tone of incredulity wasn't missed, and Derek forced himself to swallow down any violent response before saying instead, "Yeah."

His grip on Elle suddenly vanished, and he backed away, gaze never wandering from her own. "Yeah, I do care. More than I really should, since I just fucking _met_ the kid, but . . ." He shrugged, hopeless. "I care about him."

Elle straightened up, swiping at her arms as if to remove the handprints from her skin. She lowered her eyebrows, glaring at Derek in a manner that had made many a man before him quake.

"Really?"

Derek chewed his inner cheek. "Really. I never want to hurt him again, Elle. I want to save him from all of the hurt." He held up a hand, as if meaning to cross his heart. "I swear."

Elle's scowl deepened slightly, as she vilified the truth behind his words. Finally, she sighed a small huff of air, and spun on her heel, marching off towards her tent.

After a few seconds, she cocked her head over her shoulder, looking straight at Derek.  
"Come on," she drawled.

* * *

At Elle's tent, the slender form of Spencer Reid was bent over a small case, trying to find an errant sock that had seemingly vanished over the night. Anderson stood in a corner, watching him with a slight frown upon his face.

"You're really leaving?"

Not looking up, Reid nodded. "My mother's worried about me," he said shortly, rummaging behind the makeshift pile of pillows he ha used the previous evening.

He didn't see Anderson's face as the older boy took his time in replying, "It's kinda gonna suck to lose you already. You're not half-bad, kid."

Reid stood, victorious, sock in one hand as he raised an eyebrow at Anderson. "Do you think so?"

The other boy nodded, smiling, and Reid looked away. "You're probably the first one ever."

"Second," came the reply behind him. The young genius looked up to see that Anderson had moved a step closer while he had been turned away, his eyes sympathetic — confused, but still very soft and clear.

Reid chewed his inner cheek as he stood stock-still, waiting for the next move.

Seeing his tense posture, Anderson chose instead to wisely stand his ground, only saying, "Derek cares about you, kid. _He_ likes ya."

Reid turned up one corner of his mouth in a grim smile. "Sure."

"No, really." Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, and Reid stiffened, wary of what was coming next.

"He's not a bad guy; dude can be a bit of an asswipe when he's not thinking, and he's so stubborn that we call him our own personal _jackass,_ but underneath all of that stupidity, there's a huge layer of caring, and heart. He's a good guy, even if it takes awhile to see all of it, ya know?"

"I think that's the only time I've eve been so simultaneously flattered and insulted, Anderson." The voice came from behind the both of them, and Reid jumped about a mile in the air before spinning around, to fine none other than _Derek Morgan_ grinning at him with that same lethargic calm that had put him off-edge mere hours ago.

Derek continued to smile. "Who'da thunk that something like that could come from _you?"_ he reached out, grabbing ahold of Anderson's thick hair, and running his knuckles in it, causing the younger man to squirm and try to get away.

After a second, Derek released him, saying, "Out'cha go, Anderson. I gotta talk to Reid."

The other boy obliged, and suddenly, it was just Spencer and Derek in the tent.

Reid forced his breathing to stay even. "What do you want?" He asked, for once not caring if it came out sounding rude.

Derek ignored the tone, and held his gaze. "I'm gonna walk you home, if it's all right, Pretty Boy."

"And if it's _not_ all right?"

Derek tried to hide his grimace. "Then, kiddo, I'm gonna stand back, shut the hell up, and let Elle take you out, instead."

A look of surprise crossed Reid's features. "Wha — ?

Derek shook his head. "I'm not the smartest person ever, kid — no genius, certainly — but I know better than to force someone into doing something that they don't want to be doing. You've done nothing to deserve that, so I'm telling you now . . . choose. And whatever you say . . . I'll respect it."

Reid took a moment, studying his form and profiling every inch of Derek's face before schooling his expression into one of neutrality.

"Okay," he said simply. "Fine. I know we need to talk."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Was that a yes?"

Reid shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Like you said . . . I'm with you."


	11. I'mWithYOU

**Author's Note:** We're here. Holy shit, we're actually here.

When I started daydreaming about this . . . Holy shit, was it really last Valentine's Day? Damn . . . I never, EVER thought that this fic would go so far. I was imagining a one-shot songfic, maybe just beyond a drabble . . . but this has rapidly become a monster, and one of the pieces I've put the most of my heart into. Everything I've ever wanted to try with the characters, all of the things I've wanted to see and make them feel . . . they made their way into this story. And I've never actually cried when wrapping up a project before, but . . . damn. This one has meant so, so incredibly much to me. And you guys - all of you, the reviewers and the commenters and the PM-ers and the sharers and the lurkers alike - have boosted me into going beyond what I thought was possible, and into an area I'd never before fathomed. This isn't just my story, anymore . . . It's all of ours. And I am more than grateful for everything that's happened along the way.

So thank you, you wonderful, amazing, thoughtful, sexy people; we did it!

 **Warnings:** Chapter names are borrowed from the "I'm With You" song lyrics. Major AU, kid!fic with two of my favorite CM boys, series-wide _Criminal Minds_ spoilers, angst, melodrama . . . think of everything you hated about being a teenager, and multiply it by Spencer Reid. Ye have been warned.

 **Kudos:** _Purest of the Hearts: I'm . . . I'm sorry, sis you just CinemaSins me? Really? Cuz if we're going that route, then *DING* Review did not contain a lapdance. XD I knew it was a weird line to end on, especially since it was the penultimate chapter, but it just . . . fit. My apologies, I can get cheesier than a Taco Bell 5-Layer Burrito sometimes . . . But here's the last chapter, m'dear. I so hope you enjoy._

 _DarkJediQueen: Thank you, as always, for being hoenst in your reviews. It matters to me, I promise. And, I'm kinda with you on the subject; I've been enjoying Elle, but this story started off as Morgan/Reid, and I wanted to try to end it that way, too. There's a bit of a surprise at the end, of course - damn Annber03 and her inspiring ideas! AUGH. But otherwise, this is it for now. A little more (somewhat. maybe?) Sperek, and we'll call it a wrap. I kinda got the urge to write these two from this unniverse as adults at some point, but . . . wel, we'll see what happens. Thanks so much for staying true to this. It's been wonderful of you._

 _BAUProfileQueen: Not gonna lie, I kinda started when you said 'book.' Seriously, this is fanfiction . . . but, looking at the length, I'm kinda humbled to realize that this is the second-longest thing I've ever written . . . Damn. How'd that happen? And I have no idea if this will continue on from this point, or not . . . Like I've been joking about, I've been heavily into Septiplier shipping lately . . . But I'll never totally forget my darling Criminal Minds, of course. We'll just see what happens when it happens, non? Thanks for the dedication - you're always the peppiest of my readers, I'll grant that. *Smiles*_

 _TazzieLuv13: Well-said. I couldn't agree with ya more, love. (Thanks for always making me grin with your reviews!)_

 _Annber03: SOMEONE CAUGHT THE 'PIPECLEANER' THING! *Punches air* I hafta say, of all the abuse Reid has taken on the show for his 'boy band' hair and 'pretty' looks, that one comment from Season 4 has always stuck with me the most. "You look like a pipe cleaner with eyes." I HAVE to meet a cute, tall skinny guy, just so I can make that comment to him . . . Maybe someday. I really am glad that you've been so supportive of the way I've been writing Elle in this story . . . It's really been nothing short of terrifying for me, trying to take someone I previously was SO adamant about loathing, and making them into the kind of person that I admire, maybe even wish I was like, just a little bit . . . I've felt so out of depth ever since Elle stole the spotlight, but you've always made me think that I might just be doing okay with this whole thing. So, really and truly, thanks for that. It means the world to me. Without a doubt, you are one of the best reviewers - and friends - I've ever made on here, and it was with you (and a little bit of Sue1313, admittedly) that I tried to write a happy ending to this story. It felt weird, and a little cheesy, for me Angst Queen of Forevermore, but . . . I knew you'd like it. And I think Reid could use some happiness, too. So, thanks, as always for the wonderful input, and great advice. This one is completely for you, dear. *Hugz*_

 _MW3Addict; Actually, I'm sort of mad-grateful that people didn't rip me a new one for ending yet another chapter with that line . . . I can't help myself though. As you said, it just . . . seems to fit. And I dunno about the rest of the writers on this site, but when I hear a line that I absolutely ADORE, I tend to want to repeat it over and over again, until I get sick of it (which, oddly, enough, I never really DO) . . . like "I know what makes people tick," when Sylar said it in HEROES, I could NOT stop thinking about it, for months afterwards . . . Might have a bit of a problem. XD, Oh, well, one of many, I suppose, right. I AM an FF writer, after all . . . And I'm glad that someone else can appreciate Anderson. I love that man more than words can say . . . If I didn't already have a Criminal Minds boo, man . . . Thanks for always pointing out the weird things that make me smile. I hope this last chapter does all you deserve to see from it._

 _Sue1313: I'm sorry, I'm so, SO sorry . . . I don't want to make Reid leave the group, not totally and completely . . . it would break my heart . . . I mean, if I had a heart. But, well . . . We all know it's coming. Sooner than you think. Reid's finally grown, maybe over only the course of a day or less, but I think we can all see how changed (for the better?) our little genius has become from his experiences with the group . . . And he can go home a better boy, become the man we all love so much . . . *Sighs* it's heartbreaking (and I'm sorry for taking joy in the effect I've managed to make on you, love), but it's right. And, who knows . . . Maybe I put in a little something at the end, just for you. You'll have to read and see. Thanks for always reviewing, no matter what crap I put out there. It's become a highlight of my day, often._

 _RissaGrace17: Can i just virtually hug you for relieving a HUGE fear of mine? I've never been as comfortable writing any other character than Spencer Reid, especially Garcia . . . Not that I don't love the woman, because trust me, I DO, but . . . she's no easy pixie to write. And so, I just took in, like, a ginormous breath of thanks that you, at least, found the conversation between the two of them realistic. One of my biggest concerns as a writer is making my characters seem . . . well, like themselves. that's why we love them and read about them in the first place, non? It's of the utmost to me that they make sense, and the fact that at least one reader gave me the stamp of approval . . . well, thank you. It's made me so much less nervous about posting this last chapter. If you liked the ending of #10, I'm sure you'll enjoy this one, LOLz. Thanks for the confidence boost . . . I needed it, today._

 _Kas3y: I think it's pretty obvious to almost everyone that deep down inside, Derek Morgan is just a giant pile of Marshmallow fluff. We all know it . . . Now, if he would just take off his shirt and prove it . . . Or just take off his shirt in general . . . XD. And this next chapter is the last, I fear . . . But I think it's ending right, exactly the way it needs to. We're not seeing anymore of Elle, just the end of Morgan and Reid, come whateverthefrickmay . . . Hopefully, you like it, though. Thanks for always saying exactly what was on your mind in your reviews; the honesty was needed, and quite a few of the tweaks I've made to this and other chapters were because of things you pointed out, and it's made for a better story, overall. I really appreciate that. And you. Thanks, girl._

 **Disclaimer:** As much as it breaks my heart, I own neither _Criminal Minds,_ nor Fanficnet, nor the wonderful ballad to which this story was written. I just adore all three from the bottom of the place where my heart is supposed to be. *Grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

 _I'm With You_

* * *

The path of destruction that the seemingly endless storm had left in its wake was undeniable. While thunderous gray clouds still dominated the sky overhead, the breeze in the air was soft, misleadingly gentle, almost spring-like as it carried on it the scent of torn wood, of old paint and rusting metal. Of dirt. Of smoke. Of storms.

The ground lay uneven from the torrents of water and mud, litters here and there with piles of gravel and sticks and stones and leaves and bones — of old plants. Among them were things more random, and somehow sadder — a few quarters, some misplaced doll, beams of wood that had ben ripped from some poor soul's house.

Really, the combination of all these things at once was overwhelming, and Reid had to purse his lips as he emerged from the underside of the bridge to keep from showing a reaction.

Behind him, Derek noticed the tensing of his muscles, but didn't say a word. He knew that this — whatever _this_ was coming between him and the genius — was going to be a game-changer. And besides his faint awe of that, the older boy knew that if he wanted to make any difference now, he had to let Pretty Boy speak first.

Otherwise, everything after that would be worth nothing.

They picked their way around the sodden piles of debris, making much slower progress up the bridge than they had down.

Reid was the first one to see the bus stop.

"Oh," he sighed, stopping at the sight.

The storm, apparently, had been far more severe above top than it had seemed to those residing under the bridge. What remained of the bus stop was a barely recognizable wreckage of mangled plastic; the bench was scratched to pieces, most of the graffiti faded away from the harsh winds and water. The piece of roof lay some five feet away, skittering on as the stone grinds continued to push it here and there.

"Whoah," Derek breathed, causing Reid to jump as the voice came unexpectedly from behind him.

The young genius swiveled his head around for only a second before returning his gaze to the carnage in front of them. Blindly, almost unthinkingly, he reached his hand out, long fingers sweeping delicately over the surface of the gravel and plastic.

"It just _wrecked_ it all," he whispered, voice barely audible. He heard shifting behind him, knew that Derek was coming closer, but he stepped forward, sliding out of the man's shadow.

"The storm," he continued, voice quavering slightly. "It just . . ." he swept his arm out, indicating the total destruction of everything before him, how all it was gone. Changed, really, in one simple swoop of the weather.

Derek nodded. "The weather got pretty bad last night. There's probably going to be a lot more of this and worse in town." He looked in the direction they were heading, a small frown of sympathy on his face. "Poor guys. 'Specially in the projects; they're gonna have it rough."

Reid suddenly thought of something. "The — the projects?" He turned back to Derek, panic in his eyes.

"Ashley!"

Derek quirked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Ashely, Elle's . . . sister." Reid tugged his hands through his hair, mussing it up even more as he looked around frantically. "She lives in one of those old buildings near the edge of town!"

Something clicked in Derek's brain, and a wave of understanding washed over his face. " _Ashely._ Elle's foster kid-thing. _Oh._ " He shook his head. "Kid, Ashley lives in a huge building from the late fifties, with lots of stone and brick in the walls, and a foundation of solid cement."

Reid looked at him, not getting it. Derek continued.

"She's in about the safest place one can be. I've _seen_ her home, Reid — it would take a _hurricane_ to even make a dent in the place, ya hear?"

Reid pursed his lips, still fighting for control. "How can you — ?"

"I can't," Derek admitted, picking up Reid's bag where he had dropped it and starting to walk. "But we're heading in that direction anyways, so we can stop by and check on her, if that'll make you feel better. But step on it — I wanna get you home before it gets too dark."

* * *

When the long stretch of road and dampened sand became replaced with sidewalks and neon lights of the town, more than half an hour had passed, and the two boys still had not spoken another word to each other. Derek forced his legs to keep moving, despite his fatigue from the day, and focused only on getting the kid home so he could catch a bus back to the bridge.

 _If they were even still fucking running,_ he thought bitterly, glancing again towards his compatriot.

Reid hadn't said a word since they left the bus stop, eyes fixed ahead as a timer ticked down in his mind, mentally calculating the steps and seconds until he could check on his friend and mother.

Derek's lip twitched. He might have seemed sympathetic if he hadn't looked so exhausted. He turned back to the road, thinking things over.

Obviously, he had screwed this whole . . . situation . . . up pretty bad. Penelope's words about breaking trust and hurting lashing out at someone innocent kept echoing around in his head, repeatedly washing the young man in wave after wave of guilt.

It might have only been for a brief while, but he knew exactly what it felt like to be bullied. First coupla years of high school, he'd had his ass handed to him very day of the week by the mountains they called the football team. He would go home mottled in bruises, lie to his mother about how his day had been, and hide in his room until the next morning, when it would all start over again.

Derek looked the skinny genius over once more, eyeing every inch of pale, thin skin, each rib bone sticking out in a painfully obvious way, each tear in his too-old, too-small clothes.

 _His_ way out of hell would have to be different than Derek's . . . the kid didn't seem like he had the inclination — nor the _time_ to lift weights until he was bigger than _his_ bullies . . .

He sighed. What a mess.

Suddenly, he slammed into the small figure before him, nearly knocking both himself and Reid to the ground in his moment of not paying attention to where he was going.

Quick reflexes struck in, though, and Derek was ably to keep his balance by a toe, using his free hand to ensure that Reid didn't get a fateful of cement, either.

The kid jerked slightly, but remained upright, and nodded a barely discernible _thanks_ to Derek before looking back at whatever had caught his attention in the first place.

It was the building where Ashley lived.

Derek had only seen the place a few times, when he'd first gotten to know Elle and insisted on walking her everywhere . . . but he would recognize the place in his sleep.

Mortar crumbling, broken windows, ivy creeping down the side . . . it looked like something straight out of a horror novel.

He suppressed his shudder, and watched in silence as Reid approached the door, long fingers curled tightly into a fist.

He knocked.

No answer.

Reid waited a moment, counting to six in his head, and rapped his knuckles on the door again, slightly harder this time.

Still no answer.

Frowning now, the boy leaned in, pressing his ear to the warped wood, and listened.

There was a faint noise coming from behind the door — but while it could have been the slight footsteps of someone trying to hide their presence, it could just as easily be the whistling of the wind, or the shifting of the old building as it settled into the night.

Maybe she was there. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was fine — or not. Maybe —

Reid shook the thoughts out of his head. He pulled away, arching his back slightly as he gave one last tap to the door.

Again . . . nothing.

Disheartened, the boy backed up a few steps, and then turned to find Derek looking at him, sympathy etched over his face.

"Not home?"

Reid shook his head, not trusting himself to speak as he descended.

"Leave her a note."

The genius looked up, eyebrows crinkled.

"What?"

Derek shrugged, rooting around in the bag he was holding for a pen. "Drop her a line or something. You know — say you stopped by? It's better than nothing."

Reid considered for a moment before shaking his head. "I can't — "

"Why not?" Derek interrupted, a stern expression taking over his face. "We've got a minute. And don't tell me a mind like yours ran out of words already?"

Reid shook his head. "That's not it! I just — I — I . . ."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Reid stumbled over his words for a few moments more, and then hung his head, tasseled curls tangling over his eyes.

There was no excuse.

Smiling slightly, lips upturned in a vague expression of victory, Derek succeeded at last in pulling a pencil from one of his pockets, and dragged out a crumpled receipt.

He stepped forward, shoving his hands into the kid's face.

"Go."

* * *

As much as he hated being told what to do, a part of Reid, deep down inside, was truly very grateful for Derek's pushing. It wasn't coddling, or trepidatious as so many people had been in his short stint in life. But neither was it malevolent or bullying in any way.

Rather, the way the dark-skinned boy had behaved, it seemed to be a sign of caring, almost tenderness, that he wanted Reid to make contact with someone.

Almost like something his mother would do.

Chewing on the eraser head, it took him a few minutes to put his mixed thoughts into the appropriate words.

 _Ashley,_

 _I hope that this finds you well._

 _I know you told me very specifically to back off, but I didn't get a proper chance to say goodbye to you, and I feel like I was cheated._

 _You're a very strong girl. I admire that, even if I wish that your situation — like so many others — was so very different. For that matter, I am sorry we couldn't have had more pleasant time together. I sense that we would make good companions._

 _That said; if you ever want to sleep on a real bed in a home with four walls and running water, both Elle and Derek know where to find me. You're always welcome._

 _Please take care of yourself. And yes, that_ _is_ _me trying to boss you around._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _—_ _Reid_

Reading it over, Reid decided that while no great work of prose, it said what he wanted to without running off the edges. He looked around for something to seal the note with, and when he found nothing, instead folded the paper into a small square and stuck it into the keyhole of the building.

There. Easily seen without being obvious. He nodded, satisfied, and walked back to where Derek was waiting.

Without saying a word, the two began to walk again.

But this time, the silence that stretched between them was not one of awkward discomfort, as it had been before. Rather, both of the young men sensed this one full of uncertainty, of calmness and acceptance.

Of . . . friendship.

* * *

"Thank you."

The words were so softly spoken that it could have easily been masked by the sound of the light rain, or the hum of activity that Las Vegas always seemed to have going around it. And Derek nearly _did_ miss it. If he hadn't been studying the genius before him, he _would_ have.

But for once, luck was on his side, and he caught the small voice as he and Reid marched into a lower-class part of town. For just a moment, Reid's eyes met his own, shining faintly in that beautiful way that they did as he sized up Derek's reaction, before he listlessly looked back at the ground on which they walked.

Derek was almost too touched to speak. This, he knew, could be the opening that he'd needed to apologize to the kid — and Reid had simply given it to him, here and now, no questions asked.

"You're welcome, kid," he started. " . . . She must mean . . . a lot to ya, huh?"

Reid's hand were fidgety, plucking at his sleeved with no real purpose other than to show how nervous he was.

"I barely know her," he admitted slowly. "Elle introduced us today, and she seems perfectly nice . . ."

"Do you like her?"

"Of course I do!" Reid seemed offended and confused by the question.

Derek shook his head. "No, kid. I know you like her. What I mean was — do you _like her_ like her?"

Reid blinked. "What on Earth does that mean?"

Derek sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you have a crush on her, kid?"

"Oh," Reid blushed, staring back at the ground, thinking. It was a long moment before he spoke again.

" . . . As I said; I barely know her."

"You know enough to leave her a note."

Reid stiffened. "I was offering my apologies for something I'd said earlier to her, and telling her that there's a guest room in my house."

Derek was stunned by the generosity of such an offer. And the rashness.

It seemed so out of place for the kid. At least, for what he knew of him.

"That was a good thing you did, Reid. Very generous. And . . . mature."

"Yeah, well . . . it's not like I make a point to be childish." Reid didn't look up from the ground.

"No, I mean it. You act like a man, really, not a kid."

"And yet you persist on calling me just that, I see."

"Sorry, _youngster._ Wouldn't want to upset the _pretty boy."_

Reid rolled his eyes, and the two of them continued on, the rain lightening steadily as the time passed.

"I'm sorry."

Reid looked over towards Derek, his thoughts completely vanishing. "What?"

Derek sighed. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, kid. I was out of line. I know I was, and besides being a complete total asshole, I'm . . . sorry."

"Derek," Reid smiled softly, "The names really don't mean that much to me."

Now it was Derek's turn to be confused. "Huh?"

Reid bit his lip, shaking his head. "I mean . . . no, I'm not really used to having people refer to me by something not on my birth certificate, but unlike the others, you don't use words that are deliberately unkind, or untrue. Don't mind my lack of social grace — really. You're okay."

He'd misunderstood.

Again.

 _One thing he's right about,_ Derek thought to himself. _No social graces._

He took a moment to be amused by the irony, before reality set back in.

Derek frowned, and when he spoke, it was with an adult tone that got Reid's attention immediately.

"Kid," he started, "I wasn't talking about the names — although I'm happy that you're okay with them, at least." He sighed. "I was . . . talking about what I said earlier. This morning . . . About your father."

"Oh." Reid's eyes lost their laughter, and an utterly crestfallen expression took over his young face. An _adult_ look that no child should have.

One no one should have ever, really.

Derek gulped, always uncomfortable with emotional situations — but knowing the importance of every limited second with the kid, he forged on.

"I was an asshole. And way out of line. I mean, of all people, I _know_ what it's like to have an adult hurt you so profoundly, and to bring it up . . . well, I mean, kid . . . I suck."

Reid had been staring into space as Derek rambled, but immediately looked over, eyes snapping on the contrite boy. "No!" He gasped, reaching out and resting a smooth, pale hand on Derek's shoulder.

Derek was too taken aback to speak.

So Reid continued. "You're not . . . don't say that, Derek. _P-please._ You're a _good_ person, you don't . . ."

He couldn't say the word.

Somehow, that made Derek even more disconsolate.

"Kid — I was wrong."

Reid blinked. "Yes . . . yes you were."

"What I did was awful. Sick." Penelope's admonishments echoed in his head.

Reid frowned slightly. " . . . No. No, Derek Morgan, _no._ What you said was . . . unfair. Unkind. Personal." The genius took in a deep breath. "But every single person in the world does things they regret in anger — things that aren't who they really are, things that appall them in the light of day . . ."

He spoke from experience. His, and his mother's.

Reid tried not to think on that too much before continuing. "Yes, I was angry with you, and I won't deny that what you said was cruel . . . but you're not a cruel person, Derek. None of you guys are. You all saved me, yesterday and today. I don't . . ." he bit back the tremor in his voice, "I don't know where I'd be right now if it weren't for everyone under the bridge — but _you_ especially, Derek."

 _Wow._

It both broke and elated Derek's heart, Reid's words. The boy had spoken so candidly, but honestly and fairly. It was more than anyone could have asked of a boy so young.

More than most people would ever have _given._

Derek took a step in, moving closer to the thin body.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was barely a whisper.

"And so am I," Reid responded. He ignored the confused look Derek shot at him, taking in a deep breath before continuing.

"I tend to hold things very closely to myself — my mother calls me _a fortress._ When things hit — even significantly minor things like something spoken in anger — I feel them in a way that's more inappropriately intense than is necessarily called for. I like things . . . neat. In order. _Control."_

Reid blinked, and cleared his throat, hoping to rid it of the wavery quality it had just taken on.

"I reacted in a way that was immature, and rude, and for that, I am sorry."

"Kid, you have nothing — "

"I do," Reid cut in firmly. "I have trouble seeing my own problems at times, but this I do recognize; in my pursuit for order, I brushed you aside and nearly alienated Elle's sister. It's an issue, a flaw, and not one I have plans to continue for much longer." He bowed his head, and spoke contritely. "I'll work on it."

"You're too hard on yourself," Derek said candidly as they turned onto a long-ago suburban neighborhood. Though they had passed a ballpark and small grocery store along the way, something about the neighborhood felt hollow, wrong — a facade. As if, while before this might have been a happy place to raise a family, something had hit it and taken away all the joy.

But while Derek felt a squirming beneath his skin, an eagerness to get away from this darkened place, Reid's face bore he expression of familiarity, resignation — even the faintest hint of . . . fondness.

For him, this was home.

They walked, padded footsteps the only sound on the ground and echoing slightly in the empty rows of houses and yards, until finally, Reid stopped in front of one of the porches.

This one looked no different than the rows and rows of other homes, at least not to Derek. Same peeling paint on the porch, same cherry-wood door with brass numbers above the top, same two windows to either side of said door . . . Nothing remarkable.

But the ways Reid's eyes shined as he looked upon it, Derek knew that they had reached his house.

"This is it," he said softly, his voice vanishing on the faint wisp of wind that floated by.

Beside him, in the waning light, Reid nodded. "It is."

* * *

For once in his life, the genius who knew everything (hah, hah) had no words.

Nothing to describe the simultaneous rush of both elation and dread he felt in being at his home again, so tangibly close to the person he cared about most in the world.

But there was just as equally nothing to say that would capture his dejection at having to leave this boy — man, nearly — who had become such a . . . a _friend_ to him, over the course of barely a day.

 _Friend_. The word tasted strange in Reid's mouth. He'd never had a friend before.

And despite his many efforts over the years to push down his feelings, to hid his emotions — the fact that he ha had a human side at all, really — Reid didn't want to let it go.

He hadn't realized how rapid his breathing had become until Derek rested a hand on his shoulder, voicing his concern.

"Are you okay?"

Reid stood there, staring at the house as a tumble of memories overcame him, his lip beginning to quiver. "I'm not ready . . ." he whispered, shame turning his cheeks red as the words slipped out.

 _Coward._

"I wish this wasn't all," he whispered, choosing dominion and quieted longing over voicing the actual thoughts in his head. In the back of his throat, Reid tasted the acrid burn of despair, of loss and disappointment.

Derek looked at him curiously. "All?"

Reid swallowed tightly. "I know I shouldn't be upset, that this is inevitable and adults accept the inevitable, but . . . But I don't want to. Just this once . . . I wish I could stay here, outside . . ." _With you._

"As soon as I open that door," Reid continued quietly, fingering his keys in his pocket, "My life resumes the course it's always had, always will. I'm the freak genius with an indisposed mother who gets shoved into lockers and beaten senseless when the jocks need a training session. I don't complain, or at least I try not to, because I know that this is life, and life isn't always, . . . well, _fair,_ but it works out all for the best in the end. I adhere to that thought with the very core of my being."

He sighed. "But . . . getting to meet you, and Penelope . . . and JJ and Prophet and Elle and Ashely . . . It was just so . . . so _different. Nice_ different, I mean. Like . . . like I'd found something I wasn't really sure was missing. And right now, I just . . . I don't want to give it up, knowing what it is — whatever that is, I mean."

Reid was quite aware that his babbling sounded like some of the waxier poets he'd been forced to read in his young life, and he couldn't help the blush creeping around his ears as he continued to add on to his ridiculous spiel.

"I . . . I'm just being childish," he finished lamely.

For a few agonizingly long moments, there was nothing but the hum and buzz of cars in the distance. Derek stared at him, and he back, no one saying a word, moving a muscle . . . nothing to suggest that time wasn't frozen in this terrifyingly _long_ second.

And then, there was a hand on his face, so soft and gentle that it might have been a breeze rather than flesh and blood, and Reid unconsciously leaned into the touch, some part deep inside of him desperately seeking human contact.

"Reid," the voice was kind, and soft. Caring.

Everything Derek did seemed caring.

"You _are_ a child, Reid."

He blinked, and looked back up, seeing the half-smile on Derek's face as he took in the genius's almost teary expression.

"I know you don't wanna hear it, kid, but for all of your smarts and maturity and stern little looks . . . well, kid . . . that's just it; you're a _kid."_

Derek moved his hand to Reid's shoulder, drawing the boy closer to his warm body, exuding protection and care with his gesture.

"And _kids,_ " Derek whispered, his voice nearly lost in the dark of the drawing evening, " _don't_ have to take on the world by themselves."

Reid bit back a bitter laugh. "As if the ones we call adults will?"

"Maybe not." Derek sighed. "They _should_ , but they won't. Not all of them. The people that care about you, though — they _will_ help. At every second they can." He squeezed gently.

" _I'll_ help you, kid."

Reid blinked rapidly, his voice tremulous when he finally tried to speak one last time.  
"W-why? Why would you do that?"

 _For me?_

"Because, kid; I _care._ I might not be the vision of a knight in shining armor, and it's not a convenient kind of caring, but . . . well, kid, I do."

Derek spun around the thin body in his arms, and tucked a hand under Reid's chin, forcing him to look up, right into the chocolate brown eyes, shining simply in the night.

"I already told you, kid; _I'm with you._ "

* * *

He slept well for the first time in so long, that night.

It had been countless years since Spencer Reid had resigned himself to the fact that sleep would be a rare and precious commodity for himself, giving up the idea that he would ever be a well-rested boy, nor man.

And yet, with the memory of Derek's form disappearing into the night and the echo of his last words — _See ya soon, Pretty Boy —_ still ringing in his head, the genius dropped off to sleep mere moments after hitting the pillow.

And he slept soundly through the night, well into the next day.

With the drawn shades blocking any light attempting to wheedle its way into his bedroom, Diana Reid still sleeping soundly — the first thing he'd checked upon entering his house — Spencer Reid might have slept for a very long time still, warm and comfortable and _safe_ as he felt for a change.

In fact, if there hadn't come a fierce pounding at the door, likely nothing would have woken up the young genius until his alarm would have shrilled at 6:15 the next morning. For school.

But the fact was, the pounding _did_ come, and try as he did to ignore it, Reid eventually dragged himself from the comfy confines of his bed.

Blearily, he made his way around the crammed mess of his room, and picked through the hall, stopping for a brief second to stare in his mother's room, and once more reassure himself that she was okay, safe and sound and asleep.

They might have so much to talk about today.

The thought unnerved him at the same time that it comforted him, and Reid shook his head before turning and exiting the room as silently as he'd come.

Padding down the stairs in well-practiced light-footedness, Reid noted with irritation how the pounding on the door had only increased in frequency, intensity, and volume.

When he got to the kitchen from which the noise was emanating, instead of answering the door immediately, Reid chose — somewhat churlishly — to take a quick moment to prepare a pot of coffee.

As he carefully measured the beans, grinding them with practiced ease and pouring them into the old coffeemaker, the pounding paused briefly.

Startled, Reid turned around, wondering if his potential guest had left yet, and took a step towards the door, hand outstretched —

— only to jump back as the banging stead up once more with new vigor.

Fairly slamming the potful of water into the machine, Reid punched 'On' blindly and whipped around, hair flying into his face and eyes narrowing as his frustration reached a peak.

He stomped to the door, suddenly not caring for his manner or appearance, wanting only to tell whoever the Hell was there that, as it was not yet lunchtime on a _Sunday,_ there was no need for the copiousness of over-enthusiastic _pummeling._

Whipping the chains off of the locks, Spencer barely had the door cracked when he hissed out " _What?"_ in a tone so venomous that none would have normally associated it with the mild-mannered genius.

Well . . . none who had never interrupted his precious sleep.

At the door, Ashley stood stock-still, fist still raised slightly as though to continue her relentless assault on the door, a small smile on her face and a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

Reid gaped. "Ash- . . . Ashley?"

"The one and only," she bared her teeth.

Reid blinked, suddenly wishing very much that he had thought to run a comb through his hair . . . or put on real pants . . .

Ashely took in his rumpled figure with benign amusement, and tried to peek around him into the house. "You live here?"

"Either that," Reid ran a hand through his messy curls in a fruitless attempt to neaten them, "or someone's going to be unpleasantly surprised upon waking."

Ashley smiled. "You got coffee?"

Reid glanced back, having forgotten about his brew, before swiveling to meet the expectant eyes of the beautiful blonde once more.  
"I . . ."

"Well?"

She continued to hit him with that unwavering gaze, and finally, Reid stood back, allowing her into the kitchen.

As though it was her own home, Ashley proceeded to open every drawer and cabinet, pulling things out until she had amassed a small army of supplies on the kitchen table: mugs, spoons, sugar, milk, chocolate chips . . .

Reid chewed his inner cheek. "Ashley," he started, walking behind a chair as the blonde began to mix up two mugs of sweet, sweet coffee for the both of them, "I don't want to . . . be rude — "

"As if you know how," she snorted in response, focusing entirely on dropping chocolate morsels into her beverage.

Reid forced himself to ignore the interruption. "Why are you here?"

Ashley looked up, eyes meeting his for a second that stretched on endlessly. Reid stared back, unbending.

Ashely opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it again, and then, lips pursed, handed Reid his mug of caramel-colored coffee. She gestured to drink, the smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she leaned up against the counter, watching the genius.

He sipped slowly, savoring the sweetness on his tongue, letting out a small "Mmm" of satisfaction that made his blonde compatriot roll her eyes.

For a moment, the silence was bliss, as both young people drank in the other's company as well as their beverages.

Then, Reid set his mug down.

"Ashely," he started, turning so that he was looking her straight in the eyes, "Why?"

She blinked at him, and then looked down at the floor, setting her coffee mug on the counter beside her.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked.

Reid raised an eyebrow. "I — what?"

"Did you _mean_ it," she pressed, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of receipt paper from her pocket, "when you wrote _this?"_ She looked at it, a warmth alighting her features beautifully before meeting Reid's eyes with no small amount of trepidation.

"I got your note," she explained needlessly, waving her hand slightly.

Reid looked from it, to her, to back again.

She had gotten the note. She'd read it . . .

 _She believed it?_

"Did you want me to? Mean it, I mean?"

His words were cautious, not revealing his thoughts either way.

This had to be her decision.

Ashely looked from the floor to his eyes, tears carving paths down her cheeks.

"I . . . I was hoping you did," she whispered.

Reid stood up, slowly unfolding himself from the kitchen chair, and walked to the girl.

Gently, as his mother had done to him so countless many times, he reached out a hand, and cupped Ashley's shoulder.

"I was honest in every way," he murmured.

Ashely looked up at him, blinking. "You . . ." she managed, before being wrapped into a bear-hug by the smaller, thinner genius.

"Welcome, Ashley," he said, breath mingling in her blonde hair.

"Guess you're with me, now."

* * *

The End


End file.
